Way of the Officer
by Kurt
Summary: Voyager encounters a Klingon vessel in the Delta Quadrant, and discovers Starfleet officers aboard it working with the Klingon crew. What is their story? And what are they hiding?
1. The Vor'moch

_Author's note: _

_In my first Voyager fic, I had a look at a possible storyline of the Equinox crew, which necessitated the watching of the episodes a few times to get a handle on the Equinox characters. While I liked the Equinox episodes, I found myself noticing one thing – that all throughout the story, Janeway always had the upper hand over Ransom, for the simple reason that Voyager had lots of firepower and food and crew and all that, and Equinox did not. So, like any good fanfic author, I found myself wondering: what would have happened if it had been more of an equal matchup? _

_Then another idea occurred to me, which will become apparent as you read this, and mixing the two together seemed promising...so here we are._

_

* * *

_

_Captain's log, Stardate 52365.1 _

_After mapping a small nebula, Voyager has currently entered a section of space inhabited by a species known as the Latarrans. Fortunately for us, they were friendly and welcoming. _

_We docked at the Latarran home planet for a week. The crew was given shore leave. I've been to the surface of the planet myself, for a few days. It's nice to give the crew a break, and nicer to get one myself. The Latarrans were quite willing to trade food for dilithium ore, and just in time, too. I'd heard grumbles of mutiny if Neelix served leola root stew one more time. _

_At the request of the Latarran government, we are currently bringing some medical supplies to a Latarran colony. Normally, we could make it there in two days, but the Latarrans maintain a speed limit of warp five, much as Starfleet used to. While this holds us up a bit, I've elected to follow Latarran law. There seems to be no need to antagonize a friendly species. _

_The Latarrans have warned us of a violent race called the Karnaii, who claim the Latarran colony as their own. Apparently, the Latarrans were forced to evacuate it a few hundred years ago, and when they returned to reclaim it, the Karnaii who had settled there reacted angrily. Although the Latarrans offered humanitarian aid and resettlement help, the Karnaii fought back viciously. They have attacked colonists and ships in the area and treat captives barbarously, according to the reports they showed me. So far, sensors have shown nothing. _

_All the same, the crew is noticeably refreshed, and so am I. A week on Latarra Prime has done us a world of good. They had beautiful beaches and mountains, and the people were wonderfully friendly and open. So we're proceeding with caution but not fear. _

She felt refreshed, and it wasn't just her coffee. No, the week spent on Latarra Prime had revitalized the crew. It had been nice to spend a few days as just plain Kathryn Janeway; it made it much easier to be the shields-up, infallible captain of the _Voyager. _The Latarrans were wonderfully civilized people. They'd wanted to know what _Voyager _had been doing in their section of space, but once they had exchanged pleasantries, they'd been warm and accepting.

If they'd been at maximum warp, they could have been at the Latarran colony by now, but as it was, they had three more days. It didn't really bother her, though. Paris loved to fly the ship at maximum warp, but he would just have to survive at warp five. It didn't bother her.

It was pleasant in a way they didn't often get to experience. They knew where they were going, they'd been warmly welcomed where they had just left, and they knew there was a warm welcome waiting for them where they were going. Those were small things, but all too rare in the Delta Quadrant.

She watched the bridge function smoothly around her, feeling content and good for the first time in a while. All she needed now was a top-up of her coffee to make this perfect.

Tuvok frowned over his console. "Captain, I am reading a high level of radioactive particles, suggesting a recent battle, at bearing two seven one mark two." After a moment, he added, "Confirmed. The patterns of radiation and debris indicate a battle. One ship appears to be functional and moving at low impulse. Whatever others there may have been have been destroyed."

She turned her head and frowned. "Distance?"

"Four light years."

She frowned. Good mood gone, just like that. "Is it a Latarran ship?"

"No." Harry Kim answered the question. "The course we're on is part of the standard Latarran shipping lane." He consulted his console and tapped a few keys. "There have been some Karnaii attacks on freighters recently, so Latarran military ships are on patrol. Nothing on the public bands. Their military frequencies are encrypted, so if it's a military ship, we wouldn't know about it."

She thought for only a second. "Let's have a look. Tom, change course to intercept, maximum warp. Go to Yellow Alert."

"Course change, two seven one mark two, aye. Maximum warp," Tom repeated, his hands moving deftly over the helm. The whine of the engines increased in intensity. Inertial dampers kept them from the worst of the acceleration, but left them enough to feel the change in speed.

Janeway took a pull at her coffee. The pleasant, easy feeling of a milk run to an allied colony was gone. Instead, the crew took on the same watchful mien that she felt. Was the ship disabled or simply damaged? Was it a Latarran ship sticking to its military frequencies? Or perhaps a Karnaii raider, trying to get away? She'd have to be careful; the Latarrans had warned her about their enemies.

Several tense minutes passed. Then finally, the ship was visible on sensors. At first it was just a spark amongst the darkness of space. As they drew closer, Janeway frowned. As they got close enough to see the ship, she stood up in shock and her jaw dropped. She didn't need to worry about her crew seeing it; they were identically awed.

The ship was green. Sparks flew from hull breaches, and visible gas, or plasma, jetted from a few places on its hull. The shape was familiar to Janeway, and Chakotay would know it as well; any Starfleet officer who had been through command school knew it.

Tuvok said it first.

"Captain, the vessel...appears to be a Klingon Bird-of-Prey. The _K'Vort_ class."

The scars on the ship indicated it had just seen combat. But there was much about this ship that made Janeway gawp at the viewscreen. Along one side, something long and thin and curved had been neatly if crudely welded to the side. She could see the marks of where it had been attached. It reminded her of old medical texts she'd seen, when doctors actually used needle and thread to sew up wounds instead of using a protoplaser.

The impulse engine in the back of the cruiser did not appear to be standard, either. It fit where it should, but she could see where engineers had pried apart part of the hull to make it fit. But the stunning thing, the truly mind-boggling thing, was that the impulse engine did not glow orange. It glowed as blue as _Voyager's _own. The thing attached to the wing was a phaser strip, much like those mounted on _Voyager's _hull.

The Klingon ship had been rebuilt with _Federation _technology.

"Hail them," Janeway managed.

Questions tumbled through her brain. What was a Klingon ship doing out here? Had they been kidnapped by the Caretaker? Where had they gotten the Federation technology? What the hell was going on here?

Then the screen changed to reveal the Klingon captain. He was as she expected: a tall, muscular, dour Klingon. He eyed her with some distrust. Simple memorization came to her aid; she wasn't sure what to think.

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager," _she recited. "Do you require assistance?"

Even as the words left her mouth she knew it was the wrong thing to say. A Klingon would deny needing assistance even if he was hanging over a cliff by one hand. The Klingon watched her cautiously for a moment.

"I am...Captain Koth of the Klingon ship _Vor'moch,_" he rumbled. "I do not require assistance. Our engineers are making repairs."

For a moment Janeway was tempted to cut the connection and let him go about his merry way. Then she saw the man standing next to him – clearly the first officer. He was staring at the screen in utter shock.

Like the captain, this man had long hair, tied back in a steel-gray queue down his back. Like the captain, he had the somewhat shaggy goatee that was affected almost universally by Klingon warriors. His face was thin and his eyes were hard. A disruptor pistol hung at his side. But the uniform he wore was not a Klingon uniform – it was Starfleet. The red shoulders were dirty and stained and had gone almost as dark as the black underneath from years of wear. But it was a Starfleet uniform, no doubt. The delta-shaped combadge on his chest glittered in the faint light of the Klingon bridge. His forehead was as smooth and bare of ridges as any of her crew.

He was human. He was Starfleet.

"You...you have _Starfleet _personnel on your ship?" she said, dazed.

He broke his stare to glance at his captain, who simply nodded once.

"Yes," the human said. "I'm Commander Paul Kinsey. First officer, IKS _Vor'moch. _We have many other Starfleet crew aboard this ship."

Now that she looked, there were other humans manning stations on the bridge – three in all, working right next to Klingons. Most wore the same battered, worn uniforms as the first officer did. Klingon knives hung from their belts. One wore a Klingon gray vest over his uniform. Two of them stared back at _Voyager _hopefully, as if they had forgotten that a Federation existed. One watched back with curiosity but little trust.

Janeway blinked and felt dizzy. What was going on here? How could a Klingon ship have Starfleet officers as part of its bridge crew? She swallowed.

"I'd like to speak to your Starfleet officers," she managed.

Koth didn't refuse her, but he wasn't polite either. "Not now. We are making repairs."

_Get ahold of yourself, Kathryn. _She took a moment to compose herself. "Of course," she said. "As fellow travelers, may I _offer _you the assistance of my engineers?"

That, apparently, did the trick. Koth nodded once. "You may." He turned and barked out an order in gutteral Klingon. "Beam aboard when you are ready." He cut the connection, leaving only a blank starfield in his place.

Janeway stared at the ship. She had to know what their story was. After all this time, Starfleet officers...on a _Klingon _ship? But first she had to help them. "Bridge to Engineering," she said briskly.

"Engineering here," Torres replied, sounding as shocked as Janeway felt. "Captain, are these sensor readings right?"

Janeway sank back down into her chair. "It seems so," she said. "Assemble a team of engineers. We're going to help the _Vor'moch _crew."

"Aye, captain," Torres said dubiously.

Chakotay looked over at her. "After all these years, another Alpha Quadrant ship," he said. "What do you think their story is?"

"I don't know," Janeway said. "But I mean to find out."


	2. Engineering

B'Elanna Torres would rather have been _anywhere _but here.

Coming to grips with her Klingon side had been the journey of a lifetime, and she wasn't totally in tune with it and probably wouldn't be. Which she understood, because her lifetime wasn't over yet.

Here, in the Delta Quadrant, there had been some stirrings; some desire to reconnect with her Klingon heritage. She'd read. She'd designed holodeck programs with Tom and then gone into them herself. She had furtively started to study the Klingon language again – she could speak it passably, but she couldn't read Klingon anywhere near as good as she could read English.

Klingon culture was fine. Klingon culture didn't bother her. Klingon culture was part of her heritage. She could deal with it in little itty-bitty chunks, and then she could go and associate with people who didn't base their entire culture around smashing each other over the head. That had worked out most hunky-dory, as Tom sometimes said.

Still, the engineering section of a Klingon Bird of Prey was just a little more Klingon culture at one time than she liked. In fact, more than a little. A lot. If B'Elanna Torres had her way in life, the only time she would be on a Klingon ship would be in a situation where she could say 'Computer, end program', and then maybe Tom would make all the Klingons on it sing barbershop quartet, since he was a wiseacre that way. That would've been fine. But fate had other plans for her.

She materialized with her team in the middle of Engineering. It was dark; the only light overhead was reddish and muted. Smoke billowed from a few Jefferies tubes and overhead pipes; sparks spat from a console or two. A dull, foghorning siren puled overhead like a sick child.

The consoles themselves made her stare. A Federation LCARS panel stood chummily next to a Klingon panel of some kind. Overhead she could see standard EPS conduits just like those back on _Voyager, _running into Klingon and Federation machinery alike. There were heavy black cables she associated with Klingon engineering running next to them. The ship was a bizarre blend of Starfleet and Klingon equipment, as if someone had tried to put a ship together by raiding a scrapyard.

Yet it was neat, in its way. The Starfleet LCARS panels fit into the floor or walls, depending on where they were. Somebody had taken the time to make sure they fit properly. Part of her mind wanted to scream – _'Scuse me! My doctor has strictly limited my intake of Klingon things, and this is just waaaay too much for one day. _But her engineer's mind was always on duty. Somebody had taken the time to custom-cut holes in the deck for the panels. No fresh welding marks nearby. Therefore, they'd been there for a while. This ship might look like it had been put together from spare parts, but it had clearly been going for quite some time.

The engineers on duty were equally baffling; they wore the same dirty Starfleet uniforms and equally dirty Klingon uniforms. They spoke to each other in Klingon and English. Interestingly, B'Elanna noted, the race of the speaker didn't determine the language; Klingons were speaking – well, shouting – English and Starfleeters were speaking Klingon with equal ease.

The ship had seen battle very recently; she knew what fresh battle scars looked like. She flagged down a Klingon who was scurrying by with a hyperspanner in his hands. He was about average height. For most races he would have been barrel-chested, but for a Klingon he was actually a little on the thin side.

"Hey!" she said. "B'Elanna Torres. _USS Voyager. _Who's your chief engineer?"

If there was one thing she had to give her maternal race, it was this: Klingons didn't chat about the weather when everything was falling apart around them. The Klingon pointed over to the warp core – or what she thought was the warp core; steam or smoke or something was jetting from a pipe and blocked her view.

"There," he roared. "_Krow'lei." _

It wasn't a Klingon word she recognized, so it was probably a name. She blinked, looked over at Vorik, and gestured for him to follow. The stuff didn't smell like plasma; probably smoke. It made a few of her engineers cough.

She saw a long-haired figure bending over a computer console, frantically typing away at it and yelling orders across the din of the hectic engine room. A few figures stood nearby, obeying those orders and shouting back responses. That would be the chief engineer; she'd done the same thing herself countless times.

As she approached, she stared. The figure wore a triangular Klingon vest that was several sizes too big. The hem hung down to mid-thigh. Tools hung from loops sewn onto it, and a Starfleet combadge sat incongruously atop the left breast. As B'Elanna drew closer, she saw the figure was female, and human. Her hair was either red or brown; B'Elanna couldn't tell in this light. It looked dirty. Her Klingon had a weird accent, and all B'Elanna could think was that she must have learned her Klingon from some colony planet somewhere.

"Are you the chief engineer?" B'Elanna yelled over the din.

"Yes!" the woman shouted back. She turned her head to one of her Klingon underlings. "Don't route through that bloody conduit, can't you see it's being repaired?" With that, she turned back to B'Elanna. "Do you know Klingon engineering, or just Starfleet?"

B'Elanna blinked. The woman's English was accented, too: she pronounced the final word _Stahfleet _and a few other words – _conduit, repaired, engineering – _were quite different from the way she was used to. She glanced over to the conduit in question, expecting to see it smeared with blood, which was hardly an unexpected situation on a Klingon ship that had just seen battle.

"Starfleet," she managed. "I'm....I'm not really a Klingon. Show me it and I can fix it."

The woman clearly seemed puzzled, but the situation was too pressing to ask the questions she had. "Our warp core is offline. We need those EPS conduits repaired, and the Bussard collectors are damaged. Those are Starfleet, you should be able to deal with them."

She swallowed and nodded. It had been a while since she had taken orders in Engineering, but this wasn't her shop. She turned to the engineers she'd brought over with her and began smoothly giving orders, directing her crew to repair what they could, which would free up the _Vor'moch _engineers to fix up the Klingon stuff.

"I'll be coordinating everything with...," she turned to the human woman.

"Crowley. Lieutenant Megan Crowley," the woman supplied, and stuck out a hand. Her uniform bore the mark of a working engineer: electrical burns and stains up and down the sleeves. It didn't bother B'Elanna – plenty of times, her uniforms looked like hell at the end of a long day. Still, the uniform the woman wore looked like she'd been wearing it for a while; the yellow shoulders had gotten pretty grubby. B'Elanna took her hand and shook it.

"Lieutenant Crowley," B'Elanna finished. "Let's _go, _people!"

With the extra hands from _Voyager, _and the occasional replicated part beamed over, it didn't take too long to get the _Vor'moch _in reasonable shape. In perhaps an hour and a half, the warp core was back online, power was getting where it needed to, and shields and weapons were available if needed. The ruptures had been repaired. Having something concrete to do was good: she could focus on fixing things and making them work right. The comm buzzed overhead.

"Bridge to Engineering."

"_jonta'pa' _here," Crowley answered, not looking up. The casual mixture of English and Klingon spooked B'Elanna out. She had dealt with her mixed heritage all her life; seeing an entire _starship _that was mixed human and Klingon was making her skin crawl.

_"qaStaH nuq?"_

"Impulse engines online, warp core coming online, currently thirty-six percent. Warp capability in three minutes. Disruptors charging, phaser bank online, torpedoes ready." She paused. "Weapons capability is more than sufficient, captain."

"Good. Bridge out."

Crowley turned to Torres then, holding out her hand. "Well, your staff is good," she said, more at ease now that the situation was under control. "On behalf of my people, thanks for your help, mate."

"Glad to help," B'Elanna said, and smiled. "So how does a Starfleet crew end up on a Klingon vessel? Especially a Klingon vessel with so much Starfleet equipment?"

The other woman shrugged. "It's a long story. Commander Kinsey or Captain Koth ought to be the one to tell that tale."

Her combadge buzzed before B'Elanna could say anything. Captain Janeway's voice cut in sharply. "_Voyager _to Torres."

So many questions, so little time, and such a _weird _atmosphere. "Go ahead," B'Elanna said uncertainly.

"What's your status?"

"We've repaired everything we can."

"Good. I'll be speaking with the captain. If the _Vor'moch _engineers need anything, find out what it is and we'll get it to them. When you're finished, beam back to the ship. I want a full report on their current status. Janeway out."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, although she said nothing.

* * *

Back on _Voyager, _Kathryn Janeway gestured to Kim. "Harry, hail the _Vor'moch." _

A computer bleep acknowledged the order. "Hailing them now," Kim said stoutly. A moment later, the bridge of the Klingon ship appeared. Koth hulked in his chair. Kinsey stood beside him.

"Yes?" Koth asked.

"Captain Koth," Janeway began. "We have much to discuss. This is the first Alpha Quadrant ship we've seen in a long time." She strove for words. "I'd like to invite you and your officers to _Voyager. _There we are expected to follow for Starfleet personnel who have been lost and recovered. I'd like to follow them. I'm very interested in hearing your story, too." She smiled pleasantly. "Shall we say eighteen hundred hours?"

Koth shifted in his chair. His human first officer traded a glance with him Janeway knew the deal: a captain and first officer with a good working relationship could pack a lot of eloquence into a single look.

"Agreed," he said. "Eighteen hundred hours. We...thank you for your help. Koth out."

Janeway knew that Klingons were often curt, so she didn't feel offended when the connection was cut. There was plenty to do. Neelix would have to be informed that they'd have guests. She would need a list of the Starfleet officers on the _Vor'moch. _They'd need physicals. Their families would want to know they were alive. All that was just regulation.

On the human element, this was just plain exciting. It had been so long since she'd seen a Starfleet uniform on anyone who wasn't part of her crew. How had they gotten to be on a Klingon ship? Obviously those salvaged Federation components had to come from a Federation ship, but which one? What did the Klingons think about having former enemies as their crew? Had they had a rougher time of it than the Maquis integration on _Voyager? _ It all boiled down to one thing, really: what story did they have to tell? She was eager to hear it.

Their tactical status was green across the board. There were no ships in sight that could possibly be enemies, only a few Latarran freighters barely within sensor range. She stared at the chronometer: three more hours. Neelix would complain that it wasn't enough time, but for her it was an eternity. She was a scientist and a Starfleet officer, and both of those had this in common: the urge to learn and know.

She tapped her foot irritably. The next three hours would pass interminably.

And they did.


	3. Over Dinner

_Author's notes: _

_Katharina-B: Ich muss arbeiten hier! Ich verstand deine Frage, und hier wird ich versuchen zu erklaeren. The combadge does have a universal translator, but it doesn't always translate. In TNG, a Klingon once told Picard "You speak the lies of a kah-teck', and Picard responded by cursing at him in Klingon, and that didn't get translated. (Der Klingon fand es toell und sagte dass Picard klingonisches Blut haben mussen.) B'Elanna calls people 'petaQ' when she gets annoyed at them and that doesn't get translated into an English insult. We don't know how the translator works, but it's not possible to mute a person the way you can mute a TV, so it couldn't stop you from saying a mixed English-Klingon sentence. _

_Or I could take the cheeseball way out and just say that Crowley's translator was broken. :) _

_The Klingons were not always Federation allies. In DS9, they actually had a brief but bloody war against the Federation. _

_JadziaKathryn: Glad you like it. Yes, we find out where Crowley is from in this chapter. _

_Stoko: Here's another chapter. Glad you like it. _

_PG: Thanks, glad you like it. _

Despite his protests that he couldn't _possibly _throw together a banquet on three hours notice, Neelix had done fine, just as Janeway had known he would. He had even managed to scramble up some _gagh _for the Klingons. A few of his Starfleet kitchen helpers had felt that revolting, and privately Janeway would agree. She had no prejudice against Klingons themselves, but their cuisine left her feeling queasy.

She could tell B'Elanna was troubled by the presence of the Klingon ship, but she seemed to be holding up. B'Elanna was standing behind her now, along with the rest of the command crew, waiting for the _Vor'moch _crew. Everyone was in dress uniform, waiting for their guests.

Precisely at eighteen hundred hours, transporter rooms one and two shimmered with activity, and a mixed crew of Klingons and Starfleet personnel appeared on the landing pad. Koth was first, wearing what she recognized as a Klingon command cloak. Kinsey was beside him, his queue pulled back to something more acceptable to Starfleet grooming standards. He wore a dress uniform as well, but clearly one that had seen better days. A holstered disruptor and Klingon dagger hung at his waist, which struck Janeway as odd.

The Klingons appeared to have borrowed some Starfleet customs as well. On each Klingon chest, in the same place a Starfleet combadge would be, was a Klingon trefoil. Koth touched his and the familiar Starfleet twitter came from it.

"Koth to _Vor'moch_," he said gruffly. "Beam-in is successful."

Janeway smiled. "Captain Koth, Commander Kinsey, officers of the _IKS Vor'moch_," she said, her voice rolling in the tones of command she'd learned to master. "As fellow travelers, we welcome you to _USS Voyager. _This way, please."

It didn't take long to get to the mess hall, which they'd set up for the dinner. A few _Voyager _crewmembers stared at their guests. The same uniforms didn't obviate the difference: the _Vor'moch _crew was all armed with Klingon disruptors and knives. That wasn't the only difference, though. It was in the way they moved, and the facial expressions they made. The air of readiness for battle was never far away. Janeway found herself thinking that even here, on an allied ship, they wouldn't hesitate to draw their weapons at the first sign of trouble. They seemed like coiled springs, ready to strike at any moment. They wore the same uniform as she did, but these Starfleet officers were much more warriors than scientists.

Even so, they were friendly, if a bit detached. _Oh, don't be so hard on them, _Janeway scolded herself. _They've been on a Klingon ship for years. They're not used to Starfleet vessels anymore. _They settled in at the table, the Klingons a bit rowdier than the Starfleet crew.

_"Gagh," _Koth said approvingly.

"Yes," Janeway said. "Our ambassador, Neelix, deserves the credit for that."

Koth studied him for a moment. "A Talaxian?"

"Oh, yes," Neelix said, a bit nervous under the frankly appraising stare of the Klingon captain – _and _the first officer,Janeway noticed. "Do you like the _gagh_?"

Koth took a bite and chewed experimentally, watching Neelix all the while. The Talaxian watched him carefully. "I had to use a local species," he said apologetically. "But it _is _live. I...heh, heh...I had to cook it myself. My kitchen crew isn't used to making _gagh_."

Koth stared and chewed, not saying a word. His face was implacable.

"Do you like it?" Neelix asked nervously.

The Klingon was silent for another moment, and Janeway couldn't recall seeing the little Talaxian so nervous. Then a grin crossed Koth's face.

"Yes!" he said. "Any _gagh _so far from home is good _gagh." _He turned to his crew. "Eat!"

Some of the Starfleet _Vor'moch _crew dove into the _gagh _with the same relish as the Klingons. Others did not. The chief engineer – Crowley, Janeway remembered, B'Elanna had said their chief engineer was a Starfleet officer named Crowley – satisfied herself with a large steak. It was cooked, but rare enough that red juices puddled when she cut into it. The Klingons around her seemed to find it acceptable.

Koth eyed her with some curiosity. "Don't you eat _gagh?_" he asked. From his tone, the question was more light than serious.

"Oh, I had worms for lunch, sir," Crowley replied an all-too-serious tone. "You go ahead." Janeway knew that tone, too. On her ship it tended to be used by a certain blond helmsman. The Klingon sitting next to Crowley seemed to find it amusing.

The easiest way to do this was to ignore what her guests were eating to the best of her ability. She glanced over at Commander Kinsey, cleared her throat, and smiled. He simply smiled back and continued eating his _gagh. _

"Commander," she asked. "I guess I'm curious. How is it a Starfleet crew ends up on a Klingon vessel? And my engineers told me your ship has been extensively retrofitted with Federation equipment."

The commander put down his fork and cleared his throat. "Fair question," he said. "Well, the story is simple. I was the XO on an Excelsior-class ship – the _USS Holden, _under Captain Paul Harriman_." _

_"_I've heard the name," Janeway said. "A good man and a fine officer."

Kinsey nodded and his smile turned a bit sad. "He was," he said.

"I'm sorry," Janeway said sympathetically.

The Starfleet officer nodded. _"Holden _ was a good ship, but a little beyond her time. We were in the Badlands about six years ago, trying to search for Maquis raiders."

Next to her, Chakotay stiffened just a bit. One sidelong glance was enough to tell her that he wasn't going to say anything else; he was a good enough officer not to.

"This was just after the Klingons had withdrawn from the Khitomer accords," Kinsey continued. "So we were on alert in case any Klingon ships approached. And one did. The _Vor'moch._" He gestured at Koth, who provided a toothy grin.

"I recall that," Janeway said archly. "It was a difficult time."

Koth nodded. "Not all of us agreed with Gowron's decision," he rumbled. "I did not. Continue."

"Anyway, we were suddenly...transported to the Delta Quadrant," Kinsey continued. "By this alien intelligence, known as the--,"

Janeway finished the last word with him. "Caretaker."

Kinsey nodded slowly. "He got you, too."

"He did," Janeway said. "Please, continue."

"The _Vor'moch _was pulled into the Delta Quadrant shortly after the _Holden _was," Kinsey said. "At first, I thought Captain Harriman was going to fire on the Klingons, but he didn't. We had our hands full soon enough, anyway. Have you met up with the Kazon?"

Janeway smiled tightly. "We knew them well," she said.

"That's where the story gets interesting," Kinsey said. "It went sort of like this...,"

* * *

_Six years earlier _

The bridge was smoldering and smashed. Overhead, lights guttered on and off. There were great holes smashed in the bridge's hull. He didn't need the viewscreen to see the blackness of space; he could just look over to where the tactical station used to be. Only forcefields kept them from a quick death. Red Alert lights pulsed – those that were still working. These days, the ship was almost always at Red Alert. Kinsey would've preferred if they'd just been off. He wasn't exactly sure what to do next.

They'd managed to fight off the first wave of Kazon by themselves. The problem was, they kept coming back for more. The alliance with the Klingons was helping, he supposed – at least the Kazon had someone else to shoot at. Even so,_ Holden _had taken wounds that she couldn't recover from.

Harriman had died in the last attack. He was now acting captain of a rapidly disintegrating ship. When they'd started out, they had a hundred and fifty crewmen. Now there were sixty-three. Most of the department heads were dead. The new command crew had the hallmark of a ship in distress: most, if not all, of the current department heads were 'acting'. He was acting captain. John Kormack was his acting executive officer. Meg Crowley had been an ensign; now she was acting chief of engineering. Ray Barkovitch was now acting head of security. In the past two weeks, it seemed all he had done was fight, hold memorial services, issue field promotions, and then wait for the next wave of Kazon to repeat the cycle.

He knew his own limitations. He'd been a damned good first officer. Attaining the captaincy was not something he'd really looked for – not yet. Attaining it under _these _circumstances had been painful. His people struck him as much like himself – they'd been thrust into positions of command before they'd had experience. All the same, they were dedicated, and they'd kept the ship going under circumstances that no Federation rulebook could have ever conceived.

Their only ally was the Klingon ship. Funny, that. The Klingons had been allies for years. Decades, even. Now their leader had been issuing ultimatums and demands. How much did that matter here? According to stellar charts, they were seventy thousand light-years from home.

He traded the broken bridge for the broken conference room. The lights were low; all necessary power had been diverted to the forcefields and weapons. The Klingon captain had requested a conference with him. He wanted to meet with his command staff before then.

"All right," he said. "Things aren't good. I want to know current status and options."

Megan Crowley looked at him with the exhausted, deadened eyes of a woman who had been lucky to catch an hour's sleep over the past few weeks Her accent flavored her words, but didn't pad their content. In happier times, she preferred the colorful slang of her home. Now, it wasn't a luxury she could afford.

"We have twelve major hull breaches. Engineering has suffered massive casualties. I've got about a fourth of the people I should have. Warp core is stable, but I can only give you warp two with these breaches. A quarter of the ship is exposed to vacuum. Half the ship is uninhabitable. We'd need to find a friendly drydock and have this ship in it for about a year to fix all the damage and even get her close to spaceworthy."

Barkovitch weighed in. "I've passed out weapons to the surviving crew. If the Kazon find us again, they'll board us. Shields are weak." He shook his head. "We can't hold them off. If the Klingons decide to get nasty with us, we can't hold them off either. We've lost so many...,"

"Karmack." Karmack was already struggling as XO; he'd been a science officer, and a good one, but command wasn't in his bones. He knew good first officers, and while Karmack was valiantly trying, he just wasn't ready for it.

The younger man sighed. "Mostly, what they said," he said dully. "We've got sixty-three crewmen left out of what should be a hundred fifty. We've got no supply lines, we've got hostiles outside...things are pretty bad."

"Status of the _Vor'moch_?"

"They're in the same boat we are. They've got a cloaking device, but they can't hit and run the way they used to. They can't get us out of this pickle, anyway," Kormack said fatalistically. "It's really a question of who dies first."

The crewman manning the one functional transporter pad buzzed them on the comms. "Transporter room to bridge."

"Go ahead," Kinsey said.

"The captain of the Klingon ship wants to meet with you now. He says it's urgent and wants immediate beam-over."

The tension in the room was immediately palpable. If the Klingons thought boarding the _Holden _would get them out of trouble, they were mistaken. That didn't mean they might not try. Kinsey fought the urge to order immediate fire against the Klingon ship. Maybe better to go out fighting. He was so damned tired. Everyone still alive was working double shifts, and he was ardently feeling his own inadequacy.

"Go ahead," he said. "Tell them we need five minutes." The acting captain turned to the acting security chief. "Barkovitch, round up anyone who isn't on repair work and arm them. If the Klingons want a fight, we'll give them one."

Those five minutes were among the longest of his life. When the Klingon officers beamed onto the bridge, they were met by stone-faced Starfleet officers, each armed with phasers. They didn't look particularly happy with the situation. The Klingon captain gestured to Kinsey.

"You are in command?"

Kinsey nodded.

"Let Harriman be welcomed in Sto-Vo-Kor. He fought honorably." He turned and looked at the Starfleet officers. "I tell you nothing your sensors cannot already tell you, and I can tell you what ours show of your vessel. The situation on _Vor'moch _is critical. I have lost many crew and irreplaceable equipment. These Kazon have no honor. I do not wish to fall at their hands. Nor should you. I require your engineers and your vessel's equipment."

"No way, mate," Megan Crowley said. She reached for her phaser, and a few other Starfleet officers grabbed theirs. A few of the Klingons answered in kind. Koth raised a hand and shouted something in Klingon. At the same time, Kinsey ordered his own crew to lower their weapons. The atmosphere was extremely tense, and for a moment Kinsey thought it might spin out of control. If one hothead on either side fired...

"Only a fool fights in a burning house," Koth said. "We have _two _burning houses." His steely eyes scanned the Starfleet officers. "We have hidden in this nebula to make repairs. These Kazon animals cannot find us here. I propose an honorable truce, and a joining. Abandon this ship. We shall bring its equipment and crew to _Vor'moch. _Together we can make our stand."

Kinsey stared at him. "You want me to abandon this ship and join your crew? I can't do that," he protested.

Koth eyed him. "Then today _is _a good day to die," he snarled. "I do not fear death. I would prefer to escape these Kazon dogs and return home. Do you not want the same?" he said.

"Why not come here?" Kinsey asked.

"You have twelve hull breaches. We have two. If we use this ship for salvage and raw materials, we can survive. You have what we need – computers, impulse engines, engineers, crew."

"What would happen to us on a Klingon ship?"

Koth watched him carefully. "You would rise to the level of your competence," he said, and pointed at Kinsey. "You would be my first officer. As for the rest of you, you have proven yourselves to be honorable warriors. There is a place for you on my ship. But I need an answer. Kazon ships are scanning the nebula for us as we speak. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can begin repairs."

"On a Klingon ship," Kinsey said, "you fight for position."

Koth shook his head. "I am captain. The crew shall listen to me or pay the price." He extended his hand to Kinsey. "Do you think I offer this truce in jest? We have been allies apart. Now we must come together...or die."

Kinsey looked over at his crew – his steely, bedraggled, exhausted crew. Koth was right. What could he possibly do? The Klingon seemed honorable enough. He took a deep breath, swallowed, and looked over at the plaque on the bridge.

Then he took the Klingon's hand.

During the first few weeks, things were too busy for the Klingons and the Starfleet crew to really argue. They stripped the _Holden _of a phaser array, photon torpedoes, computers, impulse enginers – anything that wasn't nailed down and quite a few things that were. . The Klingon engineering staff had been largely decimated. Crowley rounded up what was left, put them to work side by side with the remains of _Holden's _engineering crew, and began to get the ship functional again.

Kinsey thought it was nothing short of a miracle that the Kazon hadn't found them. If they'd been less angry and more intelligent, they might have. But in the end, after almost a month, _Vor'moch _was ready.

He beamed aboard the _Holden _with Barkovitch and Crowley and set the self-destruct. They'd left only enough supplies on the ship to ensure that the Kazon wouldn't get her. In the end, she was just a hull with a computer core. All the same, he'd beamed back with tears in his eyes.

The _Vor'moch _was a cruiser, and there was a room big enough for all the Starfleet souls on board to stand and watch their ship explode, given to the stars for eternity on the other side of the galaxy. They had said not a word. The Klingons had reacted differently; they'd loudly sung to warn the spirits of Sto-Vo-Kor that the brave warriors who had died aboard the _Holden _would soon have their ship back, too.

On that day, Captain Koth had announced to his Klingon crew that he had given the Starfleet officers safe haven on his ship; that they were honorable and that whoever attacked them would answer to him. For the most part, it had done the job as well as it had for Captain Kathryn Janeway, who would later announce to her crew that the Maquis aboard would be accepted.

When _Vor'moch _left the nebula, she was hardly the same ship she had been. Half her guts were Federation, and half her crew, too. The Klingon and Starfleet crews had their differences and growing pains. The Klingons adopted combadges, although they wanted them to bear the symbol of their own empire. The human men grew their hair into warrior's queues. The Starfleet crew adopted disruptors, as they were more powerful than phasers. The Klingons began to carry Federation tricorders, as they were more sensitive and useful than the Klingon-issue item. The human doctor set up shop in _Vor'moch's _sickbay with equipment salvaged from the _Holden, _and the Klingons learned that the use of medicine did not make one less of a warrior.

The crew of the _Vor'moch _faced many of the same threats that the _Voyager _would face. They battled against the Vidiians. They fought Borg. They encountered the silver androids of the Pralor and Kraveck, determined to continue their robotic war. They found wormholes and experimented with new technologies to make their way home.

And along the way, they became one ship.

* * *

At the other end of the table, B'Elanna Torres sat, interested in the story. It was odd to hear that others had shared _Voyager's _adventures. And it was just plain freaky to see humans and Klingons working side by side.

She glanced across the table at Lieutenant Crowley, who was eating unconcernedly. Her steak was pretty raw and bloody. The Klingon next to her glanced at it with some amusement.

"How is that?" he asked casually.

"It's great." She cut off a piece and dropped it on the Klingon's plate. "Here. Stick that in yer gob."

"It is _burnt_." The Klingon sounded revolted.

"Barely," Crowley said. "Go on, try it."

"Sounds like you've had quite some adventures," B'Elanna said, and swallowed.

The two glanced over at her. "Oh, yes," Crowley said after a moment. "I suppose you blokes have too. Life's certainly not boring out here in the Delta Quadrant."

"I'm Tom Paris. _Voyager's _helmsman," Tom said from next to his wife. "You met B'Elanna. Torres."

"Yes. You were a great help, mate," Crowley said cheerfully. "So you're the helmsman here?" She traded an amused glance with the Klingon.

Tom, always the inquisitive sort, leaned forward. "Yes, I am. What kind of accent is that? British?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Smile when you say that, so I know you're joking," she said, and sounded vaguely offended. "I'm no pommy. True-blue Australian." She glanced at the Klingon to whome she had given a piece of steak. "This yobbo here is Kahg, of the house of Klasq. He's our helmsman."

The Klingon shook his head. "Will you _ever _pronounce my name correctly?" He sounded more amused than angry.

"Oh, a _thousand _apologies," Crowley said. "_Karrrrg. _He's Karrrrrg, of the house of Klasq. Better?"

Karg nodded and grinned with jagged teeth. "Much."

B'Elanna took in the interplay, noticed the way they interacted with each other, and suddenly felt the urge to run shrieking from the room. Crowley and Karg were more than friends, it seemed. How? Weren't Earth women too fragile for Klingons?

"I was in Auckland for a while," Tom said, trying to cover for her.

"Auckland? New Zealand's all right, I guess," Crowley said. "You'd have had a better time in Australia."

Tom shrugged. "I suppose I probably would have," he admitted. "I wasn't there by choice."

Karg did not appear to get it. Crowley seemed to get it, from the smile that crossed her facee.

In this light, B'Elanna could see she was a redhead, like the captain. The similarity ended there; her hair was long and a bit unruly, the way a Klingon woman would wear hers.

_Jeez, _B'Elanna thought. _She's with a Klingon man. A Klingon! How does he keep from breaking her bones? _

"So you are the pilot," Karg mused. "Does your vessel have the Federation touch controls, or a proper helm?"

Tom sighed and shook his head. "Despite my best efforts, we've still got those touch controls," he said. Already, B'Elanna could tell where this was going. Tom was more accepting of people; they'd been accepting of him. _You traitor. _

At the other end of the table, Janeway watched her officers chat with the _Vor'moch _officers. Things seemed to be going all right. She could tell that B'Elanna seemed to be nervous; having her past rubbed in her face like this couldn't be easy.

"So," she asked Commander Kinsey. "Who was it who attacked you?"

Kinsey grunted. "We were defending an unarmed convoy," he said. "A violent race was attacking them, so we agreed to help them."

"The Karnaii? We've heard about them."

Kinsey nodded. "It's really too bad," he said. "The Karnaii have been treated brutally. Now we've seen it for ourselves." He shook his head.

A twinge shot through Janeway's gut. "Wait," she said. "Weren't you attacked by the Karnaii?"

Kinsey looked surprised, but she could see the same comprehension dawning in his eyes that was occurring in her own.

"No, Captain," he said. "We were _defending _the Karnaii. We were attacked by the Latarrans."


	4. Mixed Crew

_Author's note: _

_Here we are, another chapter in this little tale. _

_Bren: Well, we see B'Elanna and Tom differently. I see her as torn between her two halves, rejecting her Klingon side, and only through the course of the show did she even start coming to grips with it. Tom, I guess, he knows when to be a man and when he can have fun. _

_Worker72: Yes, in the 'real' ST universe Voyager was in the Delta Quadrant before the Khitomer accords were signed, so just call this an AU. A shred of suspension of disbelief, it's all I ask. :) _

_JadziaKathryn: So you like the Crowley/Karg relationship? You'll get more of that. _

_Katharina-B: I didn't mean you were stopping me from working. I meant I had to work to understand what you wrote. (Remember, German isn't my mother tongue, so it takes me longer to read and comprehend anything beyond 'Fritz und Gerta gehen einkaufen', ) Anyway, glad you like the Crowley/Karg scenes. _

_Pongo: I suppose we could manage a bit of J/C for seasoning, like in 'Prodigal Daughter'. _

_Saavik: I thought you had me on author alert. At any rate, welcome aboard, grab a seat, and enjoy. Will the two ships end up squabbling? We'll see. Glad you like Crowley. _

_PeterN: Thank you for your kind words! Stay tuned and you'll get some answers. _

_Voyager _and _Vor'moch _cruised through the darkness of space together. Although _Vor'moch _was no longer in a battle situation, there were still a few _Voyager _engineers on the Klingon cruiser. Seven of Nine had come to the ship, hoping to increase her knowledge of humanity. A few engineers had been interested in seeing just how it was the _Vor'moch _engineers had managed to get technologies from two entirely different cultures to work together.

On a professional level, B'Elanna Torres understood that fine. Starfleet technology had a lot more to do with safety and making sure the whole thing didn't go kaboom on you in the middle of space. _Voyager _itself was full of double-redundant safeties and forcefields -- enough that she sometimes thought Starfleet assumed that everyone aboard a Federation starship was a blithering idiot who would try to use the impulse engines to dry their hair unless you put up seven different safety devices to stop them. Klingon technology reflected more of an interest in maximizing available power and if you went kaboom in the middle of space, that was an honorable warrior's death so it was all right. Power to the shields, power to the cloaking device, power to the weapons, smash the enemy, jump on their corpses, scream and growl, go get hammered on blood wine, then do it again. That was a rollicking good time to Klingons, and their engineering reflected it.

Despite the blasė attitude the _Vor'moch _crew had adopted towards their jury-rigged ship, it was actually no easy task to make it all work. Not only had it worked, but it had been working for years. That must've taken some ingenuity. From a professional point of view, she not only understood her underlings' desire to see the ship in action but shared it.

On a personal level, the place creeped her out. Seeing Starfleet officers on a Klingon ship was weird. Seeing Starfleet officers wearing bits and pieces of Klingon uniform over their Starfleet clothing was weirder. Seeing Starfleet officers and Klingon officers working side by side went against everything B'Elanna knew about her maternal race. Captain Janeway was probably applauding the wonders of multiculturalism and would think everybody could live in peace if they'd just try, but B'Elanna knew better.

It had been B'Elanna's experience that Klingons were racist, when you came down to it. They thought everybody else was below them. All her life, she'd gotten askance looks for her human father and last name. But these Klingons weren't like that. They weren't like it with her and they weren't like it with regular humans. She'd seen Crowley and Kinsey give orders, which were obeyed without so much as a sneer or an eye-roll – much the same as it would have been on _Voyager. _That just wasn't _normal. _There was just something unsettling about their camaraderie and normality. It wasn't how Klingons were supposed to act. These guys seemed to respect their human crewmates with nary an air of that smug, assured Klingon superiority to be sensed. No Klingon had a right to be this mellow.

Mellow? Maybe that wasn't it. These Klingons knew battle, and they sure weren't going to link arms with anybody and sing 'Kumbaya' anytime soon. They were just...less...Klingon somehow. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was definitely creepy. Whenever she didn't have a specific engineering problem right in front of her to solve, she could feel prickles along the base of her spine.

If there was something nice about the _Vor'moch, _it was the rare pleasure of not having to command. On _Voyager, _she was the queen bee, and that was a lot of responsibility. _Vor'moch _was quite clearly Crowley's shop, and B'Elanna was filling a position more like Vorik or Carey – a mid-level officer. If she was needed on _Voyager – _say, maybe if someone with wet hair undid the seven redundant safeties so they could stick their head in the impulse engine – they could beam her over. But for now, there was something relaxing in reporting to someone else for a change. Even that was a grain of sand against the boulder of the _weirdness _of this ship.

The engineers on the _Vor'moch _had all seemed friendly, Klingon as well as Starfleet. She could tell they were curious about her, but so far no one had asked. That was odd, too. Humans were curious, but at least they were circumspect about it. Klingons just asked. _You have weak ridges! Are you a half-breed? _

Part of her wanted the Klingons to do that. Or to punch one of their human crewmates. Or just do _anything _other than work with them like they'd been buddies for years. Then she might have a reason for how queasy this whole thing made her. She didn't have one now, and it was driving her nuts.

In her days in the Maquis, she'd been able to use the battle against the Cardassians as an outlet. On _Voyager, _she had been forced to find other ways. The best way was the one she found now: find an engineering problem and delve into it. Engineering problems didn't care if your forehead had light ridges or no ridges or if half your skull was given over to them. She was up to her elbows in the strange junction box that the _Vor'moch _crew had used to get the Klingon power relays to play nice with the Federation EPS system. Seven of Nine was examining it from another side along with Crowley and a few _Vor'moch _engineers.

"This device is functional, but inefficient. There is a twelve percent drop-off in available power when it converts between the two systems." Seven said.

"We _are _aware," Crowley said thinly; Seven had expressed her opinion of inefficiency about more than a few things on the ship. "The relays and the EPS system aren't even calibrated the same way. It was worse when we started. Twelve percent seems to be the best we can do."

B'Elanna could recognize that tone; she'd used it herself on the ex-Borg when she started getting into her more-efficient-than-thou mode. Seven would find life much easier when she learned about the joys of subtlety. B'Elanna had learned that one herself. She was still learning it, sometimes. But she knew better than Seven that challenging an engineer's technical expertise was a quick route to antagonizing them.

"I believe I can increase the efficiency of this device," Seven said thoughtfully.

Crowley shrugged. "Go for it, then," she said. "Mike, you've worked on this. Help her out." Another engineer stepped forward and squatted beside the device with Seven. Crowley showed her a few other things – the more interesting things, like how they'd gotten Federation warp-core controls to work with a Klingon warp core. That was an interesting enough engineering question that she forgot how disconcerting this ship was.

A Klingon voice spoke from behind them. "The warrior princess is coming, Lieutenant."

B'Elanna turned around, wondering who he meant. Standing behind her was a small Klingon girl. B'Elanna figured her for four or five, although it was hard to tell with Klingon children. She stared solemnly at B'Elanna and Crowley without saying a word.

"G'day, B'Eleyra," Crowley said tolerantly. "What brings you down to Engineering? Don't you have _klin zha _lessons now?"

The little girl stared at B'Elanna. B'Elanna stared back. _Are these people _trying _to freak me out? _

"I wanted to see the people from _Voyager_," the little girl said seriously.

"Well," Crowley said indulgently, "this is Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, and she's the chief engineer of the _Voyager. _Lieutenant Torres, this is B'Eleyra of the House of Tichar."

The little girl nodded once and grunted.

"_Klin zha?" _B'Elanna asked disbelievingly.

The little girl nodded. "It's a martial art," she explained _So deadpan, _B'Elanna thought. _Shouldn't you be, I dunno, running and skipping and being happy? Are there any little Klingon girls who are happy?_

"I know what it is," B'Elanna said. "You're learning that now?"

The little girl nodded, still deadly serious.

"Oh, and she's good at it too," Crowley offered chattily. "She'll have heaps of victories in battle someday. She'll break your kneecaps with her bare hands, mate."

The little girl made a face, knowing she was being teased.

To B'Elanna, the idea sounded horrible. This girl was barely old enough for kindergarten, and already they were teaching her to fight? The idea of retreating to a Jefferies tube, sticking her head in, and screaming until her lungs burst suddenly had a lot of merit.

"Were you born on the ship?" B'Elanna asked. It probably sounded monumentally stupid, but it was the only thing that came into her head.

"Yes," the little girl answered. "Is your ship like _Vor'moch_?"

B'Elanna smiled despite herself. "It's a Starfleet ship," she said hedgingly. "We...we're all Starfleet on our ship."

"Can I see your ship?"

B'Elanna swallowed. "I guess you could," she said reflectively. "I guess...ahh...I don't have a problem with it. You would have to ask your mom."

"I'll comm her," Crowley offered. She reached for her combadge, then turned. Her hand stopped midway to her chest. "Err...never mind."

As if on cue, a Klingon woman appeared in the doorway and stormed up to the little girl, her eyes glowing. B'Elanna flinched on reflex. The sight of an angry Klingon mother scraped a lot of old scars. _Yes, they _are _trying to freak me out. _

"B'Eleyra," the woman said angrily. "The engineers have work to do! They do not need a child underfoot. Return to your _klin zha _lessons."

The little girl swallowed, not wanting to show her fear. Tension knotted B'Elanna's stomach. _Don't let her see you cry. _No, that wasn't right; unlike her, the little girl had no tear ducts. B'Elanna bit her lip and felt her knees tremble with a quicksilver mixture of anger, sympathy, and fear.

She forced herself to stand tall and smile pleasantly.

"Hello," she said. "We haven't met. I'm B'Elanna Torres."

The Klingon woman turned to look at her. Anger sparked from her eyes. It was only with some effort that she nodded.

"Good...day," she said, as if she wasn't used to exchanging greetings. "I am Sayba. Navigator. Please excuse the intrusion of this scamp who does not remember her duties." A hand reached down to grab the child.

Crowley looked vaguely uncomfortable, as if she'd seen this many times before but didn't want to say anything about it. That was understandable; the Klingon woman towered over the human. B'Elanna had _been _there. Klingon child-rearing methods were not for the weak. She knew exactly what that little girl was feeling, and she'd be damned if she was going to stand by and let her hopes be crushed.

"She wasn't intruding," B'Elanna said quickly. "She came down because she wanted to see the Engineering crew I brought over from _Voyager. _Then she asked if she could come to the ship. This has got to be exciting for her. I know the little girl on our ship wants to see this one." _Somebody else can bring her here, but you don't need to know that, do you? _

Now the little girl's face brightened. B'Elanna could see it clearly, even though the mother was standing between her and the child. The glare she got from the mother would have been enough to put a pretty healthy dent into shields, but B'Elanna returned the gaze, determined not to quail.

"There's a little girl on your ship?" the girl asked, sounding interested.

"Yes," B'Elanna said, her eyes still on the mother.

"Can I see her? What's her name? Does she want to play? Can I go to the ship? Please, can I go to the ship?" The little girl's eyes lit up with hope. B'Elanna held eye contact with her mother, refusing to give an inch.

_Say yes, or so help me God I'll give you a bat'leth suppository. _

Sayba surprised her. She expected the other woman to prove her authority by refusing the child's request and dragging her back upstairs to her scheduled eye-gouging lessons. Or yelling at her. Or something.

Instead, the Klingon woman simply sighed, closed her eyes, and visibly sought to control her own temper. Much as she'd seen Ensign Wildman do on the occasions that Naomi pushed her beyond her limits. Much as B'Elanna had hoped her own mother might have done. Much as a human mother might react.

"Very well. _If _you behave. Do not interfere with their work. Once their shift is done, we can go."

The look on the little girl's face was worth this emotional torture chamber, B'Elanna thought.. It was even better when the work finally ended and they beamed to _Voyager. _She led the little girl to the mess hall and squatted down to look her in the eye.

"Our little girl's name is Naomi Wildman," she said. "She's half Ktarian. Tell you what." She gave the little girl a conspiratorial look. "I want you to find the cook. His name is Neelix. You can't miss him. He's got spots and whiskers. Tell him you want a big chocolate shake."

B'Eleyra gave her a blank look. "What is chocolate?"

B'Elanna smiled. "You'll like it. Trust me. In fact, tell Neelix you want two. Tell him he can charge it against my replicator rations."

"Okay. Thanks," the little girl said, and scurried off.

B'Elanna smiled. The sugar overload in Neelix's chocolate shakes was usually enough to give Naomi warp capability all on her own; it would be interesting to see what a Klingon child jazzed on sugar would do. Suddenly, all the stress of half her heritage being rubbed in her face didn't seem so hard to bear.

Hey. If the _Vor'moch _crew hadn't taught the kid about chocolate, _someone _had to.

* * *

The atmosphere in the readyroom was pleasant. Four command officers gathered around the table. Four people who might never have met in the Alpha Quadrant, all with their own stories of victory and loss. On the table, an antique coffeepot brewed. The stirring aroma filled the air.

"More coffee?" Janeway asked.

"Please. Thank you, captain." Kinsey held out his cup and added sugar himself. He sampled it with some relish. Koth stared at his own cup with some distaste.

"Not to your taste?" Janeway asked.

Koth shrugged. "It has...a more complex taste than _raktajino_," he said, showing more diplomacy than Janeway had grown to expect from any Klingon starship captain.

"_Raktajino _is stronger," Kinsey said easily. "You'll have to try it sometime." He chuckled. "I never even tried it until we got to the Delta Quadrant. Now I think the crew would mutiny without it."

Janeway tilted her head and smiled. It was nice to have comrades. Kinsey and Koth could understand the burden she and Chakotay carried. The burdens of command, the responsibility of knowing the fate of so many souls rested on your shoulders.

"Your crew seems to work well together," Janeway said.

"Starfleet officers have proven to be much more resilient than I originally thought," Koth rumbled. "You humans, you do not have _brak'ul." _He glanced at his first officer, clearly searching for the word.

"Redundancy," Kinsey supplied. "Redundant organs."

"Yes," Koth said. "You have only twelve ribs! And so many organs for which there are no failsafes." He shook his head. "In the Empire, it is taught that humans are weak, constantly running to their doctors for even the least little scratch. Yet the _Holden _officers have endured great hardship without complaint. I cannot fault them for limits biology bestowed upon them." He looked over at the window, his eyes searching the stars. "And out here, honor is different. Every Klingon hopes for an honorable death in battle. But here, every pair of hands is needed. Every death means the remaining crew must make up the work. So we must avoid unnecessary losses."

If more Klingons thought like Koth, Janeway thought, the Federation and the Klingon Empire would have no more problems.

"I understand you had some growing pains of your own," Kinsey said thoughtfully. "You've got Maquis in your crew."

Chakotay smiled. "Yes, we do. There were growing pains, of course."

"We know the feeling," Kinsey said. "Some of ours still have problems. Lieutenant Kormack, for one. He was a science officer on the _Holden. _It's been hard for him."

Janeway shrugged. "He's welcome to come have a look at our science division, if he likes," she said warmly. "Tell me...is there anything you need? Your uniforms seem to be a little worn."

Koth threw back his head and laughed. "Klingon replicators are not designed to constantly produce new uniform after new uniform. A warrior cannot afford to be foppish."

Kinsey smiled tightly, a little embarrassed by the question. "I suppose the crew has gotten a little threadbare. We've had to concentrate on survival first."

"Give us the old ones, and we'll recycle them for you," Janeway offered.

Kinsey thought it over. "Don't mind if I take you up on that offer, Captain," he said easily. "Thank you. The crew will appreciate it. It's been a while since we remembered Starfleet was still a going concern."

"It's been hard for everyone," Janeway said sympathetically. For a moment she wondered what it must have been like. At least on _Voyager, _they'd been able to keep their own ship. How would she have coped if her only reminder of _Voyager _was its consoles and computers and engines jury-rigged into another ship? Then she leaned forward and watched the two _Vor'moch _officers closely.

"Tell me about the Karnaii," she said. "We met the Latarrans. They were very nice to us. Did they really attack a Karnaii convoy?"

Kinsey shrugged. "The Latarrans? They're warp-capable, but they haven't figured out going faster than warp seven. Weapons are behind our sophistication level, as are shields. They're a viable threat, though."

The back-of-the-envelope tactical analysis was probably what he was used to giving on a Klingon ship. Janeway took a reflective sip of her coffee and tried to think of how to rephrase her question.

"I see," she said. "But they told us the Karnaii were brutal. That they attacked without warning, and attacked civilian shipping."

Kinsey shrugged. "They do," he said easily. "They're fighting to win. They don't have a choice. The Latarrans treat them terribly, so they have to fight back the only way they can. The Latarrans had abandoned their colony; then the Karnaii had lived there for two hundred years. Then the Latarrans came back...," he shook his head. "They don't have as good weapons as we do, but they were far better armed than the Karnaii. They've been hard. Internment without trial, refugee camps, mass deportation...the Latarrans don't have the moral high ground."

Janeway sighed. _I should have known it was too good to be true. _"They didn't treat us that way," she said.

Kinsey shrugged. "Of course they were. You've got a bigger ship, weapons, shields. They can't afford to bully you."

"Are the Karnaii fighting a fair fight?" Janeway asked.

"Not what we'd consider one," Kinsey said after a moment. "They're doing what they have to do."

Janeway felt her brow darken. "But yet you seem to support them," she said carefully.

Kinsey shrugged. "Yes, I do," he said. "They fight dirty because they're up against a superior foe. If they fought clean they'd get killed." His eyes slid over to Chakotay. "I would think a Maquis officer would understand that."

Chakotay shrugged, but his own eyes blazed. "I'm Starfleet again. And even in the Maquis, _I _didn't target unarmed vessels. There were plenty of armed Cardassians to shoot at."

"I've heard that not everyone in the Maquis was so...discriminating."

"No," Chakotay admitted. "Not everyone."

The rising sense of tension was unpleasant. Janeway swallowed. This _was _their first contact with an Alpha Quadrant ship, and she didn't want it to end badly.

"Perhaps a diplomatic solution could solve the problem," she suggested.

Koth shook his maned head. "Doubtful," he said. "This war has been going on for decades. Neither side is interested in anything less than victory. Peace must be sought. If you seek to impose it from without, you must be ready to patrol this sector for the next hundred years to enforce it."

It was hard to argue with the Klingon's words. But that was the flip side of the Prime Directive. They couldn't force peace on those who didn't want it.

"I see," Janeway said. "That's too bad."

Koth's combadge twittered. It was strange to hear that sound, so familiar as to be mundane, coming from a Klingon emblem on a Klingon uniform. He simply tapped at it just as any Starfleet officer would.

"_Vor'moch _to Koch," a rough voice said.

"Koth here," said the Klingon.

"Shift change in ten minutes."

The two _Vor'moch _officers rose. "It is late. I wish to speak with my third-shift tactical officer," Koth explained. "Thank you for hosting us, Captain Janeway. We will return the favor."

Janeway rose with him. "I'll look forward to it," she said. Chakotay rose with her, and they accompanied the other officers to the transporter room. They smiled as the human and Klingon dematerialized and were gone.

Once they were back in the readyroom, Chakotay let out a low breath.

"So," he said. "What did you think of them?"

Janeway sighed. "It's hard to tell with Koth. Many Klingons are like that. Actually, he's pretty evenhanded for a Klingon. I guess all those years of traveling with humans must have rubbed off on him."

"It runs both ways," Chakotay said. "That Kinsey seems to have toughened up a bit. They all have. The way they act, the way they are...I saw that in the Maquis a lot more than here. We ought to be careful. You're trusting them outright. There's just something about them that doesn't seem right."

Janeway gave him a sad smile. "Chakotay, how are they different from you and the Maquis when you came aboard? They've been in a different environment for many years. They're Starfleet. Just give it some time. And the Klingons are allies, as far as I'm concerned. We're comrades."

From Chakotay's nod, she knew he wouldn't argue. From the set of his mouth, she knew he didn't agree.

* * *

Commander Kinsey and Captain Koth materialized on the transporter pad of the _Vor'moch _in a sparkle of orange-red light. They headed to a small room near the bridge which served as a readyroom. It had been a good night, all things considered. _Voyager _was a possible ally, and the help they had been did not go unnoticed. All the same, plans had to be made.

"Why do you not tell them?" Koth asked. "It would be easier if we did."

Kinsey sighed. "I want to feel them out first," he said. "It looks like Janeway runs a tight ship. And we know they're carrying medical supplies to the Latarrans. It could get ugly."

Koth shrugged. "There is no reason for subterfuge. It is not Janeway's place to question my ship, or my crew."

Kinsey exhaled slowly and ordered some _raktajino _from the replicator. "Trust me," he said. "Let's see how things go. We still haven't finished. And if _Voyager _is allied with the Latarrans, how do we finish with them watching?"

Koth shrugged. "We'll find a way. We always have."


	5. Leaks

_Author's note: _

_Here's another chapter of this happy little tale. As far as whether or not this is an AU, it depends. Technically, yes, it is, because I played around a little with the Alpha Quadrant events (the Klingon-Federation war happened after Voyager was stranded in the Delta Quadrant; in this story it happened before.) A minor plot detail, really. That's all that makes this story an AU: it's not like the plot depends on Janeway having a husband and kids back on Earth or Chakotay having an evil mutated twin or Harry Kim having a secret life as a cannibal.  
_

_  
PeteN: Glad you like things so far. I try to add a shred of depth to my original characters; that's what makes them interesting. _

_Worker72: Yeah, there was some bad Voyager writing. How does B'Eleyra and Naomi get along? We see a flash of that. _

_Bren: We'll work a bit on the cliffies...._

_libertymaquis: Glad you like the story. Stay tuned. _

_mac: Hints? You want some hints? Here are a few. _

_JadziaKathryn: A little bit of Paris, you ask? I hear and obey. Scroll down. ;) Glad you liked B'Elanna's view of the Vor'moch. And Chakotay is always fun when he disagrees with the captain. _

_Saavik: Yes, I agree; getting a Klingon kid revved on sugar would be hilarious, although I would recommend hiding the cutlery just in case. _

Tom Paris tensed, looking at his instruments. His fighter craft was strong and maneuverable. Weapons were online, shields were okay. His sensors showed nothing, and that made him nervous. The enemy could not be far. But sensor scans showed only a blank starfield in front of him.

His eyes narrowed and he goosed the helm up a bit, sweeping his ship around in a tight arc that would have given him vertigo if he'd been in an atmosphere. There! Up above him, coming in from behind! He thumbed his fire buttons, releasing several torpedoes. But the enemy had seen him, and incoming torpedoes rocked his own ship.

Tom wheeled around, his lips skinning back from his teeth. The enemy fighter closed in, phasers firing. Tom fired back, feeling his ship shudder under the oncoming blast. But he have as good as he got; sensors indicated the enemy craft reeling.

Lights flashed on his own board, indicating that warp drive was now down, and shields were offline. He growled a curse as a ululating siren came to life, indicating enemy lock-on. With a savage gesture he punched the fire buttons, sending his last torpedo at his foe.

"Warning. Hull breach in fifteen seconds," the computer said blithely.

Tom knew it was the end, but his reward was the sight of the enemy ship on screen flaring into flame. The sight was darkly satisfying. Even as his own ship cracked and came apart around him, he knew at least he had taken his enemy with him. As vacuum rushed in, he took a final, deep breath and stood up from his seat.

The ship shimmered around him, and then he was standing in the middle of the holodeck. Karg stood not far away from him, his face wreathed in a pleased grin. He nodded slowly to Paris.

"You are a worthy opponent, Paris," he said in a satisfied growl.

"Good game," Paris replied. "Want to try it again?"

Karg shrugged. "I do not believe there will be time," he said. "Captain Koth and some of the others have requested some holodeck time. I will be joining them, I think."

Paris nodded. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"We will battle on the Plains of Moloch," Karg replied. "However, we will need to disengage the holodeck safeties."

Paris chuckled. "No safeties?"

"A warrior does not use safeties."

Paris grinned. This wasn't too bad at all, he thought. B'Elanna was freaking out about the _Vor'moch, _but to Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, things were going great. He'd seen Naomi Wildman and the Klingon kid – her name was sort of like B'Elanna's, which gave her even more of the spookies – tearing around the ship and having a splendid time. That, in his opinion, was what kids were supposed to do. Naomi Wildman spent way too much time trying to be Junior Officer In Charge Of Cutesiness. She was supposed to run around, scream, giggle, get jazzed on sugar, cause chaos and rumpus. _That _was a kid's job. He'd never been allowed to do it as a kid, so he'd done it for several years as an adult.

These Klingons weren't so bad. He didn't understand what it was that gave B'Elanna the screaming meemies about them. They seemed to get along a lot better with humans. They weren't so growly and chest-thumping. They had Starfleet officers in their ranks, and Starfleet officers were rather sparse here in the Delta Quadrant. So where was the problem?

"You got permission from a _Voyager _officer to do that?" Paris asked.

Karg looked lost for a moment. "Do we need it?" he asked. "We reserved the holodeck time."

"Sorry, my man," Paris said. "Rule is, holodeck safeties stay on. A bridge officer has to okay it otherwise."

Karg gave him a toothy grin. "How about you?" he asked. "You are a bridge officer. Will you?"

Paris gave the Klingon a sly look. "Tell you what," he said. "Let me join you, and you got a deal."

He'd become somewhat interested in Klingon culture since getting together with B'Elanna. Some of it was just that urge for adventure. His father had told him it would get him in trouble. He supposed his father was right. But what was the alternative? Be a chicken?

Karg gave him a level look, taking his measure. "When we go to battle, we mean it, Paris," he said in a tone of friendly advice. "Injuries happen. And you humans are not as...," he paused, clearly searching for a word that would express the point without being insulting. "Sturdy," he decided.

"I'll handle myself," Paris vowed.

Karg shrugged. "Very well." He tilted his head and appeared to size Paris up. "Might you also be able to get me schematics of _Voyager?" _

Tom paused. Schematics of _Voyager? _Karg was friendly, sure, but he was still a member of a foreign empire. Schematics weren't the sort of thing that you went handing out to anyone who wasn't Starfleet.

"What do you want schematics for?" he asked.

Karg showed him crooked teeth again. "I build models," he said. "Of starships, as a hobby. The detail work is much like the detail on fine weaponry – artisan's work. I would like to build a model of _Voyager." _

Tom blinked for a moment and grinned. B'Elanna had made Klingons sound like the bloodthirstiest race in the Alpha Quadrant. He hadn't even thought Klingons _had _hobbies that didn't involve doing something nasty to their enemies. He had to grin, despite himself. A Klingon who built starship models. Who'd have thought? It was cool, in a strange sort of way.

"I can get you a holoprojection of the ship," Tom said. "How's that?"

Karg grinned again. "That would be great. But now, I must get my _bat'leth," _He started as if preparing to leave the deck, then reconsidered. "Do you have Klingon weapons?"

Paris shook his head. "They don't fit in the replicator," he deadpanned.

Karg threw back his head and laughed. "You have a sense of humor! I like it. Replicators, bah. All Klingons carry handmade _bat'leths. _It must be imbued with the spirit of its maker._" _He turned and studied Paris for a moment. "I suppose you could use Meg's."

"Meg's?" Paris asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Megan. Lieutenant Crowley," Karg clarified. "She has a smaller one. Good for beginners."

Paris wasn't sure what to think. Klingon etiquette wasn't his strong point. Should he be insulted that the Klingon expected him to use a woman's _bat'leth_? Should he be surprised that a Starfleet officer _had _a _bat'leth_? The easy manner in which the Klingon referred to the lieutenant wasn't lost on him. B'Elanna had thought the idea of a human and a Klingon together to be completely insane, which Tom didn't understand – after all, what did that say about him?

"How does she have one of those?" Tom asked, hoping to make the question come out easy.

Karg grinned. "I made it for her," he said. "I come from a very old house on Q'onos. Our family has been warriors and weaponsmiths for millenia. I was an apprentice weaponsmaker when I was twelve until it came time for me to go to the Imperial Academy."

Paris nodded. Had Karg felt the same pressures he had? _Defend the family name. Think of all the Parises who have come before you. _Maybe.

"Interesting thing to make for a friend," he said.

Karg chuckled. "More than a friend," he said, and his grin turned sly.

Tom nodded. "So you and her are an item," he said easily. This was interesting, in a weird way. He didn't think of B'Elanna as a Klingon; she was a damn fine woman who happened to be half Klingon. Still, what was the view from the other side? What would make a full-blooded Klingon man pick a human woman?

"Yes," Karg said immediately. "Does that surprise you?"

"No," Tom answered honestly. He was curious, yeah, but not surprised. "I'm married to B'Elanna, you know."

Karg nodded. "I have heard," he said. "She is curious. I have not seen a Klingon like her before."

_Wow, _Tom thought. He'd never heard a Klingon be this diplomatic before. "She's half Klingon, half human," he said.

"Perhaps that is why she is always on our ship," Karg mused. "Yet she seems unnerved around us."

Tom sighed. How could he say this in a way that wouldn't be a lie and also wouldn't get his nose broken? "It's...sort of complex," he hedged.

Karg chuckled. "If women were not complex they would not be worth the effort," he said, and laughed uproariously. "Very well. We shall see how you do on the field of honor."

Watching a Klingon tap a combadge, even if it was their own three-pointed logo, was weird, Tom thought. All the same, why not? Fighter simulation with Karg had been a blast. How much worse could this be?

Finding out would be fun.

* * *

She had decided that she was an official masochist. 

B'Elanna had struggled for years to cope with her Klingon and human sides. She'd never felt totally comfortable in either culture. She'd gained enough self-knowledge to realize it.

Someone who was emotionally healthy wouldn't have this problem. She could sit back on _Voyager, _do her job, and make sure her own Engineering department was running smoothly. That was the sensible thing to do. That's what she should have done. There was something about the _Vor'moch _that made her skin crawl.

Was she on her own ship, running her own shop? Nope. Like a dope, she was in the engine room of the _Vor'moch, _playing team leader. There was something that kept dragging her back here, the same way someone with a recently extracted tooth would probe at it with their tongue. In both cases, you did it even though it hurt.

She wished she could find out what that something was. That way, she could drag it out in the open and beat it to a pulp so that it couldn't make her do things like this.

Today's trip had started off as simply a delivery run. At the senior staff meeting, Captain Janeway had mentioned that they had replicated sixty-three new uniforms. Someone had to take care of delivering them to the _Vor'moch _crew. It was normally something that fell under Harry's bailiwick, but she'd volunteered to play delivery girl. She still wasn't sure why. The old uniforms that had come back were pretty ratty.

The _Vor'moch _crew had seemed excited to get new uniforms. Klingons didn't hand them out very often. It was one of many reasons why B'Elanna had decided to stick with human society. Now, the _Vor'moch _crew was renewed, their ties affirmed by uniforms that actually looked like those on _Voyager. _ At first, she would have thought that they could've walked down any corridor on _Voyager _and gone completely unnoticed. But that was an illusion, only true for those who didn't look carefully. Some of it was the Klingon habits rubbing off on them: the long hair that ran up against Starfleet grooming standards, the constant wearing of Klingon disruptors and knives. Most of it was a look in their eyes: they were cool and ready for anything. The Starfleet crew of the _Vor'moch _might wear the same uniform she did, but they heard the cry of the warrior.

And after that, it was just too easy to get sucked in. She still wasn't sure exactly how they got the Klingon stuff to work with the Federation stuff. She could have prowled this ship for a few years at least.

Seven seemed interested in the _Vor'moch, _too. She wasn't sure if that was because it had a crew she had never met before, or if it was just that the _Vor'moch _presented the ex-Borg with interesting problems to solve and things to optimize. Or maybe it was a little of both; B'Elanna didn't know.

She watched the Borg drone walk up to Crowley and stand in that strangely military attention stance, waiting to be noticed. Crowley looked different in a clean uniform. If you ignored the Klingon regalia, B'Elanna thought, she could have been one of _Voyager's _engineers.

"Lieutenant Crowley," Seven said archly, "I have increased the efficiency of the junction box. Power loss is now point oh two percent."

Crowley brightened. "Good onya, mate," she said. Seven looked baffled. Crowley chuckled. "Congratulations. Thank you."

"I also discovered something I wish to bring to your attention," Seven said. "There are anomalous readings in torpedo bay four. I detected high levels of baryon particles. The cargo bay nearest to that torpedo bay has been flooded with both baryon particles and gamma radiation. There is no apparent cause for either leak."

Crowley nodded slowly. "We know about it," she said matter-of-factly. "The baryon particles are from weapons tests. We've only got so many photon torpedoes, so we were experimenting to see what we could build locally. It didn't work. The radiation leak is battle damage. We'll worry about it later."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Weapons based on baryon particles? Why would you want those?"

Crowley sighed and ran a hand through her thick red hair, looking very tired. "Because, matey," she said. "The Klingon systems generate baryon particles as a waste product. We've got only so many torpos. We've got heaps of baryon particles. So we were experimenting. Don't the bloody Borg experiment?"

Seven appeared nonplussed. "Actually, they do not. But baryon particles are extremely hazardous."

The corner of Crowley's mouth turned up. "That's why we thought we could make weapons based on them," she riposted drily.

"Even so, the radiation leaks should be repaired immediately," Seven announced.

Crowley shook her head. "Leave it be for now. We'll get to it later. She'll be right."

A puzzled look crossed Seven's face. "Who will be right?"

Crowley smiled. "Never mind," she said. "Don't worry about the leaks. I'll have my crew fix them later."

"I do not understand the reason for the delay. Radiation leaks are a clear danger to any ship."

Crowley's voice seemed edgier. "Because we'd have to shut down half the disruptor array to get at it. We're still in a battle situation. Leave it be."

"In the event of an attack, I am sure that Captain Janeway would defend _Vor'moch_," Seven said.

Crowley sighed. "Perhaps she would. Weapons systems are staying on-line for now. Just keep out of that bay, and I'll have my crew repair it when we're green. Don't worry about it, matey. You've done enough. "

"Your decision places an unnecessary risk on the crew," Seven persisted. "There are several ways by which sufficient combat readiness can be--,"

Crowley stepped forward. Her eyes flashed angrily, and for just a moment B'Elanna could feel real menace from the Australian engineer. It was hard to say exactly how; Crowley stood half a head shorter than Seven and was too thin to be anyone's idea of a warrior maiden. But her eyes spoke eloquently of fury and force, and her tone was harsh and commanding. She seemed about ready to draw the _d'k tahg _at her belt and bury it in Seven's gut. In that moment Crowley seemed to channel everything B'Elanna despised about Klingons.

"Dammit, I said leave it _alone,_" she said roughly. Seven took a step back and raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing in that cargo bay we need right away. A bunch of Klingon boots and buckles, that's all. We need those disruptors in case our enemies come calling. We'll deal with the leak and we'll deal with the bloody baryon particles when we have time."

"They can be dealt with now, if only you--," Seven began.

Crowley overrode her. "Leave that damned cargo bay _alone _or get out of my engine room and go back to _Voyager. _Is that understood?"

Seven's throat twitched. She didn't show emotions readily. There were times when B'Elanna wondered if assimilation had taken them all from her. But there was a hurt and puzzled look in Seven's eyes, a look that meant she hadn't meant to offend anyone and didn't understand the response.

"I see," Seven said. "I shall comply with your orders, Lieutenant." She turned, and walked away, her head held high. The tension in her stride and the trembling at her throat told a different story.

B'Elanna sighed. Should she say anything? On the one hand, Seven was her crewmate, and she was the senior officer from _Voyager _aboard. Seven had only been trying to help, and she called things the way she saw them.

Yet she could still see Crowley's side. For one thing, running Engineering in a battle situation was exhausting. B'Elanna knew that firsthand. _Vor'moch _was out of immediate danger, but there was a world of difference between 'not about to blow up' and 'everything working as expected.' B'Elanna knew that intimately; it was her job to keep _Voyager _as close to the latter as possible. The waiting was worse than the battle times. In battle, you knew what was going on. When you had to wait, even silent normality could be excruciating. Waiting for an enemy to appear, everyone under you staring at you waiting for orders, your nerves keyed up like guitar strings tuned three octaves too high, staring at monitors and waiting for something to happen – that was unnerving whether you were Klingon or Starfleet or Maquis.

For another, it was common knowledge on _Voyager _that Seven was the captain's pet. On _Voyager, _Seven had been largely allowed to do as she pleased, with none of the consequences that would have been due to any other crew member. She'd created Astrometrics from scratch, but she'd also sentenced an 8472 to death at Hirogen hands. For that, she'd lost computer access for a few months, but somehow or another it had been restored. B'Elanna would have followed Captain Janeway to hell and back, if asked to, but she sometimes wondered how the captain expected Seven to become an individual like everyone else when she wasn't subject to the same rules as everyone else.

As a chief engineer herself, B'Elanna had to dress people down from time to time. Sometimes you had to remind a headstrong crewman who was the boss, and sometimes that crewman had been Seven. She couldn't even begin to imagine how it must have been to command Klingons. Neither side was completely in the right or completely in the wrong. It didn't make the situation any easier.

Dammit, it had been easier when she was a Maquis. They were right, the Cardassians were wrong, and that had been all there was to it. Diplomacy wasn't her strong suit, but she'd have to play diplomat before this got uglier than it was. That was the sort of thing that she'd been forced to grow into ever since she had become a Starfleet officer.

"Look," she began diffidently, "I think everyone's really tired, and _Vor'moch _is secured. How about we call it a day and let your next shift take over? I can have some of our engineers here if you like."

Crowley turned and looked at her, mixed anger and exhaustion in her eyes. She opened her mouth to reply when her combadge buzzed.

"Karg to Crowley."

B'Elanna nodded once: _Go ahead. _The idea of a human woman with a Klingon man was still enough to send her shrieking for the hills. All the same, it might dissipate the tension. Crowley tapped her combadge and told him to go ahead.

"I require my _bat'leth _and yours. Are you coming to _Voyager?_"

Crowley sighed. B'Elanna nodded again. That could work. _Vor'moch _was a good ship, but _Voyager _had it beat for recreation. They could have a drink. Tempers could cool. They could all get some yucks over Naomi and the Klingon kid, who had apparently become the best of friends in about twelve hours. According to Tom, they were wreaking havoc on _Voyager. _

"What do you need mine for?" Crowley asked, seeming puzzled.

"One of the Starfleet officers needs one."

Crowley sighed. B'Elanna's eyes widened. Why would a Starfleet officer need a Klingon weapon? The Klingons had reserved some holodeck time; that was a simple courtesy Captain Janeway had extended.

_Please, let it be Tuvok, _she prayed. _C'mon, cause if it's not Tuvok then it'll be Tom, and if it's Tom I'm going to be really, really mad at him. _

"Understood. I'll be there shortly," Crowley said. She turned to B'Elanna and exhaled sharply. "Perhaps you're right," she said. "I need to get Karg his pig-sticker, and I need to brief my shift leader. You go ahead. I'll be there shortly."

B'Elanna nodded, swallowed, and watched her leave Engineering. Then she gathered up her own crew, contacted _Voyager, _and arranged a beam-out.

* * *

Megan Crowley watched her counterpart from _Voyager _melt into nothingness and then headed for the quarters she shared with Karg. By now, she was quite used to the low light aboard Klingon ships. 

Crowley shook her head and opened the door. The room was large. Once it had been two separate rooms, but they'd knocked down a wall when she had decided to start living with Karg. A castoff dresser from _Holden _held her things; his fit in the built-in storage compartments.

On the dresser were three models he had also made for her: one of _Holden, _one of _Vor'moch _before they'd rebuilt the ship, and one of _Vor'moch _as it was now, with half her parts Federation salvage. His _bat'leth _and the one he'd made for her hung on the walls. She stared at the blade for a moment. She never used hers; she'd be likelier to chop off her own feet than kill her enemy with it. At least someone would get to use it.

There was a real Federation bed in the room with an actual mattress. Her price for moving in with him had been that. Klingons could pound their chests about not softening their bodies with a pad all they wanted, but she intended to keep sleeping on her mattress, soft or no. Karg could sleep on a shelf if he wanted to, but he'd have to sleep there alone.

She stood on a chair to pull the _bat'leths _down and took one in each hand. The transporter room wasn't too far. Two shadows in the hall proved to be Koth and Commander Kinsey. They watched her warily.

Her eyes narrowed. "Commander. _DevwI'. _Is there a a problem, sirs?"

Koth grunted. Kinsey's thin lips pursed.

"We need to talk," he said flatly.

"Certainly," Crowley said, and made a gesture which would have seemed informal if she wasn't carrying two Klingon weapons not much shorter than she was.

"We were monitoring the situation from the bridge," Koth rumbled. "That ex-drone from _Voyager _is overly curious."

Crowley closed her eyes and sighed. "Ah yes, the blonde with implants. I thought the gamma radiation would keep her out. She didn't go _in _the cargo bay, so she didn't see anything. Besides, what's the problem? This is _our_ ship."

Kinsey shook his head slowly. "Haven't you seen their ship? Janeway is married to the rulebook. She asked me if I was still doing quarterly officer reports on the Starfleet crew. _ Quvalth! _Officer reports, in the middle of the Delta Quadrant!" He shook his head at the sheer ridiculousness of it. "Those people will _never _understand."

Crowley watched her two commanding officers for a moment. "She didn't see anything. I assure you of that," she repeated.

"What is your status?" Koth asked.

Crowley shrugged. "I can have the second one ready in twenty-four hours. I'd have had it for you already, except I didn't think it wise to assign my engineers to the project with these _Voyager _blokes aboard."

"No," Kinsey assured her, "you did right. I've been talking to our friends in the Karnaii. They're keeping the preliminary target busy, but they'll get communications back _eventually._ And _Voyager _is allied with the Latarrans." His face twisted. "This was a really _bad _time to find a Starfleet vessel. The Karnaii have the schematics, but they can't carry out phase two on their own yet."

"So what shall we do?" Crowley asked.

"Once we have performed our social duties aboard _Voyager, _the senior officers will meet," Koth said."With luck, we will find a way to part company with _Voyager _and finish phase two." He grinned coldly. "Then comes phase three."

"Phase three?" Crowley asked blankly. A look of confusion crossed her face.

"Yes." He turned to Kinsey. "You recall. When our ships became one, I promised you this. Phase three is where we all drink blood wine in the Central City of Q'onos."

"What if _Voyager _isn't so accommodating?" Kinsey asked.

Koth tried to appear nonchalant. He was an older warrior. Time and the responsibilities of command had cooled his blood lusts. All the same, they had done what they had to do, and they would finish the job, _Voyager _or no _Voyager. _

"If we must," he said calmly, "we fight."


	6. Mercy and Destruction

_Author's notes: _

_It's been a while since I got this chapter finished. A bit of writer's block. Here we are. _

_JadziaKathryn: Glad you like things so far. Here's some more Tom for you. _

_Saavik: No, B'Elanna doesn't kill Tom, but she's not happy. Well, here. _

_ Sikar: Thank you! Enjoy this chapter. _

_Marshpusey: Glad you like it. Yes, Crowley is well equipped to deal with a Klingon. _

_Bren: Hope this continues interesting you. ;) _

"Ouch! Hey, c'mon, that _hurts!_" Tom Paris protested.

The doctor smiled coolly. "Tut-tut, Mr. Paris. Surely _getting _this wound hurt a lot more than my treating it." He held Paris's arm with one hand. In the other was a protoplaser, which he was carefully guiding along a nasty gash along the helmsman's arm. It gaped open, dribbling blood onto a few towels folded under his arm. B'Elanna Torres stood next to him, her arms folded tightly over her chest. He could already tell he was in for it. She had that I'm-going-to-rip-out-your-liver-and-use-it-for-a-purse look.

"I can't believe you went on the holodeck with the Klingons," she said.

Tom shrugged with the shoulder of his good arm. "What's wrong with it? I just wanted to try it, that's all."

"Look where it got you." B'Elanna looked angry enough to spit. Or throw something, although Paris hoped she'd wait to get back to their quarters for that. "You're bleeding all over the place. You think the Klingons respect you now?"

Tom paused. "It was fun," he averred defiantly. "Maybe I'll do it again."

B'Elanna threw up her hands and stalked up and down sickbay. Her face twisted. "The Plains of Moloch. Are you insane? Fifty thousand Klingons met on the battlefield that day and chopped each other into a bunch of messy little pieces. And you let them turn the holodeck safeties off?"

Actually, he had turned the safeties off _for _the Klingons, but he didn't think that was a wise distinction to make. He watched his wife pace, wondering if there was any answer he could give that wasn't going to get him in trouble. There didn't seem to be one, or at least it wasn't coming to mind. "Well," he said diffidently, "yeah, I did. Karg asked me to. So I said I'd do it if they let me join in."

"Argh!" B'Elanna flexed her hands. Yes, she definitely wanted to throw something. He could tell. "What, are you on a first-name basis with him now? Buddying up to the Klingons? How could you be so stupid? Don't you know what Klingons do on holodecks?"

Tom exhaled. "B'Elanna, aren't you overreacting?" As soon as he said it he knew it wouldn't go over well. She whirled on him, still flexing her hands in nervous reflex.

"I am _not _overreacting!" she almost shouted. "You...you go on the holodeck, and you play Fighter Blast with a Klingon, and then you turn off the safeties for them _and _you have to fight with them, too? Why? God forbid anyone think Tom Paris is a chicken! Dammit, Tom!" She picked up a medical tricorder. Tom recoiled as much as he could.

"Lieutenant Torres," the EMH said in tones of pleasant warning. With conscious effort she made herself put it back down.

"B'Elanna," Tom said in the tones of a man trying to simultaneously be reasonable with an unreasonable woman and avoid getting the metal casing of a medical tricorder caromed off his skull, "I think you're making too much of this. I went with them, I had some fun. So I got a little cut. We've got a good doc."

The doctor smiled icily, enjoying the flattery while knowing its purpose. It didn't seem to faze B'Elanna. She cut on her heel and glared at him openly.

"A little cut? Half your arm is slashed open! Are you crazy?"

Tom held up an open hand, hoping that she wouldn't take the opportunity to break his fingers off one by one. "B'Elanna, it's going to be fine." He lowered his voice and cleared his throat. "What's eating you? The fact that I got banged up a little, or is it the _Vor'moch?" _

Her eyes blazed at him. "What possible problem would I have with it? I've been on that ship a lot. More than anyone else on _Voyager._" she said, a little too defensively.

"Yeah," Tom said calmly, "and then you pace up and down and make claws out of your hands just like you're doing now, and you act all freaked for about a couple of hours."

"No-," she said, and then cut off. "No, I don't. It's just...well... Dammit, Tom. They...,"

She wanted very badly to throw something. Tom could tell. He'd been with her long enough to know what the problem was, and he didn't know if she could ever realize it completely, let alone state it. In B'Elanna's eyes, any sort of relationship between humans and Klingons was by its nature agonized and stressful. Thoughtful but weak humans were on one side. Growly, violent Klingons were on the other. That left B'Elanna Torres in the middle. _Voyager's _Maquis and Starfleet crews had managed to build rapport, but Klingons and humans were not supposed to have such an easy time of it.

Tom got the idea that if the Starfleet crew of the _Vor'moch _had been imprisoned or enslaved by Koth, she could have hacked that fine. If they'd spent the past few years pointing weapons at their Klingon crewmates, that could have worked too. Even an uneasy alliance, with perhaps the former crew of _USS Holden _running to _Voyager _screaming for salvation at the first opportunity, that could've suited her. But they weren't doing any of those things. Instead, they were acting much like _Voyager's _crew would have in the same circumstances: they were trying to get their ship repairs completed and enjoying the company of another Alpha Quadrant ship. The very fact that the _Vor'moch _crew _weren't _at each other's throats was driving his pretty half-Klingon wife to distraction.

The doctor broke the tense silence. "There you are, Mr. Paris," he said. "Your arm may be a bit stiff for a few days. In the future, you may wish to access martialtraining programs that _do _use safety protocols."

B'Elanna let air hiss out from between her teeth, but the edge had been taken off. She seemed relieved. "I'll look for a copy of _Bat'leths for Dummies,_" she said acidly. "C'mon. Let's hit the messhall."

Tom's arm was a little stiff. B'Elanna handed him a clean shirt and helped him get it on. A smile touched her lips slowly and trembled, as if she was fighting it.

"My brave, wounded warrior," she said half-sarcastically.

"Hey," Tom said in a tone of affected nonchalance, "You should see what the _other _guy looked like."

The walk to the messhall was enough to give her a chance to calm down; he could see less tension in her stride as they approached it. All that ended at the door. When she looked in, he saw her entire body tense. A fair amount of Klingons were there, occupying a group of tables and laughing loudly over some bloodwine. It reminded him of the serials he based the Captain Proton series from; all they needed were some cigars to have a haze of smoke hovering over the table and maybe some cards and poker chips. He figured the Starfleet crew sitting with them were _Vor'moch _crew, but he couldn't be sure. Ever since they'd gotten new uniforms, it was harder to tell them apart. B'Elanna could, somehow. Maybe they'd picked up Klingon cooties only she could sense.

"Oh no," B'Elanna said.

"What?" Tom asked. "They're not so bad. Come on." He strode into the messhall.

"Paris!" The shout came from a Klingon throat. He twisted his head, looking for the source of the sound. It was Karg, sitting expansively at a table with a goblet in his hand. Crowley sat next to him, looking amused at all this Klingon exuberance. "_Qapla'. _Come drink with us."

Next to him, he could sense B'Elanna turning to nervous stone.

"No," she whispered in his ear.

"You're being silly. They're friendly. It's all right."

From the looks of things, _Voyager _and _Vor'moch _might be traveling together for a while, and she was going to have to get used to it sooner or later. Bravely, he strode towards the Klingon table. He'd hear it later; he knew that. Still, he wanted to do it.

A burst of raucous laughter greeted him as he sat. He grinned and looked around the table. It wasn't an uncomfortable situation at all. Why couldn't B'Elanna accept it?

"How is your arm?" Karg asked, grinning.

Tom flexed the wounded limb. "A little stiff," he admitted. "I'll survive. I guess next time I'll know when to dodge."

Another burst of laughter echoed through the messhall. Next to him, B'Elanna was rigid as duranium, staring at the Klingons with a large, phony grin plastered on her face. Karg reached over to clap him on the back.

"It was your first time," he said. "Besides, a Klingon who never takes a wound is not a warrior! You fought honorably." His eyes shifted to B'Elanna. "You could have joined us," he added casually.

Below the table, Tom felt B'Elanna's hand clamp onto his thigh with the nervous strength of steel springs.

"Well, I...uh...I'm not sure I'm up for the Plains of Moloch," B'Elanna hedged. Tom reached under the table himself to try and lessen the pressure of her hand. God only knew what the Klingons thought she was doing, but it felt like she was trying to tear his thigh muscle off the bone, and coming uncomfortably close to success.

"You could've watched," Crowley piped in. "That's what I did."

The hand on his leg clamped down harder and he redoubled his efforts to prize it away.

"You like watching them lop the heads off holograms?" B'Elanna asked in tones that just barely avoided being rude disbelief.

Crowley nodded and grinned. "Boys must have their games," she quipped, and elbowed Karg. "They're much easier to tame once they've had some fun and games. Besides, it's just a holodeck. It's _fun _ to watch 'em, you know. What muscle!"

The Klingons laughed uproariously at that. Karg grinned slyly. Crowley did too, with a cat-got-the-cream edge to her smile.

B'Elanna tensed once more,and then the hand relaxed. Tom relaxed too, and wondered if he'd have a bruise. They weren't uncommon with B'Elanna. Maybe she could use some fun and games; that way she'd be easier to tame. Actually, taming her would be a first. He'd settle for her giving up the attempt to rip his leg off.

Harry Kim entered the messhall and looked quizzically at him. Tom waved him over. Maybe what everyone needed was to relax a little. The Asian man seemed a bit diffident about sitting with the Klingons, but he was game enough.

"Hi, Tom," he said, looking around at the Klingons. "How's your arm?"

"I'll manage," Tom said breezily. "The doctor patched me up. I'll just be a little stiff for a couple of days. You in for a last break before nightwatch?"

"Yep," Harry said.

"Pull up a chair. You've got a couple of hours, right?"

"Stop talking! Drink!" one of the Klingons said, and there was more laughter. Harry smiled nervously. Someone shoved a glass of bloodwine in his hand.

Tom smiled coolly and drank. After a moment, so did Harry. B'Elanna followed suit, but he could see her knuckles were turning white.

_It'll all be okay, _he told himself. _Everything will be just fine._

_

* * *

_

The monitor screen was the only glow in her quarters. Kathryn Janeway sat at the desk, studying the screen. A model of an _Excelsior-_class ship took up one quarter of the screen. The rest was filled with the specifics of _USS Holden, NCC-42783. _

There was something depressing in her work. Commander Paul Kinsey was listed as the ship's executive officer; she had to change that notation to _Acting captain. _She had already updated the records to reflect that _USS Holden _had been destroyed, with large crew casualties. All that remained of that once-mighty ship was whatever was on board the _Vor'moch. _

_Voyager _had taken on the Maquis, but she had largely remained the same ship. For a moment she looked around, trying to picture the computer, her desk, her things, all mounted in another ship. The thought disconcerted her. If the Kazon had been a little smarter, it could've just as easily been some other Starfleet officer noting the loss of _her _crew.

Marking down Captain Harriman as deceased had given her pause. Marking down the other members of his crew, the ones who had died in the vicious Kazon attacks had been worse. She wasn't afraid of much that the Delta Quadrant had thrown at her, but she dreaded having to log the deaths of her own crew. The crew of the _Holden _was no easier; there were so many of them. But they were fellow Starfleet officers, and as the highest-ranking Starfleet officer for thirty-five thousand light years, she felt it was her duty.

If there was one thing that surprised her about the survivors, it was that their records indicated them to be younger than she had first thought. Crowley was twenty-nine, which meant she'd been only twenty-three when _Holden _had gotten pulled into the Delta Quadrant. Lieutenant Barkovitch was only twenty-eight. So young to be put in charge of a department, especially under such horrific conditions. Kinsey and Kormack were the only ones she thought of as peers. Kormack was forty; Kinsey was forty-five.

She pulled up Kinsey's record and looked at it thoughtfully. _Paul Kinsey. Commander. First Officer, USS Holden. Born on SD 28343.4, Alberta, Canada, Earth. _According to the records, he'd made a fine first officer. She wondered if he'd never had his own command or if he'd just never sought one. There were officers like that in the fleet: excellent second-in-commands who didn't want their own command. Some changed their minds later on. Not everyone did.

Chakotay was still distrusting of them, for some reason. He had announced that there was just something not right about the _Vor'moch _officers. That surprised her. The _Vor'moch _officers were a little rough around the edges, but that was easily explainable: they'd been on a Klingon ship for the past six years. The Maquis had been a little rough around the edges, too. Perhaps _that _was what was bothering him: maybe what they had become reminded him of what he had once been.

B'Elanna was having the worst time of it. Janeway had noticed the agitation that the _Vor'moch _caused in her chief engineer. She'd toyed with the idea of making B'Elanna stay on _Voyager_, but ultimately she'd decided to let B'Elanna walk her own path. If things got too hairy, she would step in.

Her combadge twittered. "Bridge to Captain Janeway."

"Go ahead," she said, turning her chair away from the computer screen.

"We have an incoming message from the Latarrans. It's...pretty important."

From Harry's voice, she could tell he was nervous. That wasn't good. Harry was still a little green, and he was getting used to being nightwatch commander. All the same, he didn't call her for small things. His instincts were usually right about what could wait until morning and what couldn't.

"On my way," she said briskly, and got up from her desk. It took only a moment to throw her uniform shirt on and grab her combadge. She stopped at Chakotay's door and knocked. He ought to hear this, too.

The door opened and he looked at her with some surprise. "Something wrong?" he asked.

Janeway shrugged. "Harry just called me to the bridge," she said. "Come with me."

"Sure," he said, and took a moment to grab his own combadge. They made their way together to the bridge, moving briskly. Harry vacated the captain's chair as soon as she stepped through the doors.

"Incoming message from the Latarrans," he said. "It's important."

Janeway nodded. "On screen," she said crisply.

The screen shifted from a large starfield to the figure of a Latarran. They looked mostly human except for a pattern of spots around the forehead that made her think vaguely of Neelix. She'd seen this man before; what was his name? It wouldn't come for a moment. Kharkos, that was it. Councilman Kharkos of the colonial affairs division.

His face was creased with worry and concern. There was something lost and terrified in his eyes. Whatever he was calling for wasn't a social visit.

"Captain Janeway," he said, and his voice was tight and strained.

"Councilman Kharkos," she said. "Is there something wrong?"

Kharkos swallowed. "I'm afraid so," he said. "There has been an attack on our colony at Spanos. You were en route to the colony on Salim Ru. I must ask you to divert to Spanos. Those medical supplies will be needed there. Desperately needed."

Janeway sat back in her chair. "Certainly," she said uncertainly. "Do you know what happened?"

Kharkos pressed his lips together. "It's terrible," he whispered. "We're assuming it was a Karnaii attack...but the devastation...worse than anything they've ever done...," he shook his head and visibly gathered himself. "For now, Captain, I must ask you to divert to Spanos. General Trame is in command of the military garrison on Spanos – what forces we have there. He will brief you further when you arrive."

Janeway nodded slowly. "We'll divert at once," she said.

"Thank you, captain," he whispered, and cut the connection.

Orders rose swiftly to her lips. "Go to yellow alert. Notify the doctor; we may have to help care for the casualties. Lay in a course for the Spanos colony. Someone get Tom Paris to the bridge. Harry, hail the _Vor'moch." _

A moment later, the nightwatch commander of the _Vor'moch _was calling Koth to the bridge. The Klingon captain didn't tarry, and soon enough he was on screen. Janeway eyed him carefully.

"_Voyager _has to divert course," she said. "There has been an attack on the Latarran colony of Spanos."

Koth nodded calmly. "Very well," he said. "I shall summon any of my crew on _Voyager _back to _Vor'moch. _We will rendezvous when we are out of Latarran space."

Janeway sighed. "Actually, I was hoping you could help," she said archly. "I don't have the details, but--,"

Koth shook his maned head. "No. The Latarrans attacked our ship. They are enemies."

Janeway opened her mouth and tried to think. Yes, the Latarrans had attacked, but couldn't Koth show compassion to someone who was suffering? She'd tried to suggest that idea to Seven and failed.

"Captain Koth, I understand there have been hostilities in the past between you and the Latarrans, but the colony on Spanos has done you no wrong," she tried again. "This could be an opportunity to foster...," she groped. "An honorable peace."

"No," Koth said simply. The door behind him opened, and on the screen she could see Kinsey hurrying onto the bridge to take his place beside his captain. "The Latarrans are enemies and tyrants. I say again, Captain Janeway. We will rendezvous with your ship outside of Latarran space."

Technically, Janeway would have been within her rights to order the Starfleet contingent of the _Vor'moch _crew to remain on _Voyager. _She was a captain; Kinsey was a commander. That much was obvious to anyone who could count the pips on their respective collars. All the same, she didn't want to antagonize the Klingons; they were, after all, the only other Alpha Quadrant ship that _Voyager _had met. Besides, the Starfleet crew made up about half of the _Vor'moch's _complement; taking them would give Koth only a skeleton crew.

She nodded once. She had to get to Spanos and get the situation there under control. Maybe once she'd done that and had a chance to talk to the Latarrans she could cajole Koth to the table. For now, there wasn't much she could do.

"All right," she said, letting him hear the regret in her tone. "I wish you'd change your mind, captain." She turned her head to the officers behind her. "Harry, Tuvok, ensure that any officers from the _Vor'moch _are returned to their ship."

"Aye, captain," came the response from behind her. The screen flicked back to a starfield. Janeway shook her head bitterly.

"Nice," Chakotay said, meaning _I told you so. _

Janeway sighed. "It doesn't change what we have to do," she said resolutely. "Mr. Tuvok, how many officers from the _Vor'moch _do we have?"

Tuvok tapped a few commands at his console. "Currently, none," he said. "Several transports occurred during your conversations with the councilman and with Captain Koth."

Chakotay frowned. "Like they knew it was coming," he observed flatly.

Paris had made it to the bridge to relieve the nightwatch helmsman, and he turned before taking his seat. "I don't think so, sir," he said. "They were in the mess hall just relaxing. They'd just finished up and were going back to their ship."

"Maybe," Chakotay said implacably. "Then again, maybe not." He turned and looked at Janeway eloquently, not needing to say a word.

"We don't have time for this," Janeway said resolutely. "Mr. Paris, get us to Spanos. Maximum warp."

"Aye, captain," Paris acknowledged. "Maximum warp...now." _Voyager _wheeled out of formation with _Vor'moch, _and the mighty engines engaged on their mission of mercy.

Janeway looked over at Chakotay, sitting at her side as he always did. The distrustful, cool expression on his face wasn't like him. He clenched one hand into a fist and relaxed it. Then he saw her looking at him and shrugged.

"I'm telling you," he said softly, and sounded more like himself. "There's something up with them."

* * *

"All right," Koth said from the command chair, and sounded satisfied. "Crowley, Kormack, to the bridge." 

Kinsey turned from where he'd been watching the receding shape of _Voyager _streak into the darkness. It had been so long since he'd been on a Starfleet ship. He'd forgotten so much. He'd forgotten what the saucer-and-nacelle construction of Federation starships looked like. He had gotten so used to the sight of Klingon daggers and disruptors that he'd forgotten that there were Starfleet officers who didn't wear them. The only reminders of Starfleet that he'd had for so long were his crew and the salvaged equipment from _Holden. _

But now the crew had been reminded of what they had been. He could see the effect. The new uniforms had been part of it. Seeing other people wearing those uniforms had been another. He couldn't let that get in the way. Not after everything they'd gone through to become one ship in the first place. Not when they were this close.

"This is perfect," Koth said. "You were concerned about carrying out phase two. Now we have no problem. _Voyager _has run off to play bleeding heart."

Barkovitch glanced up from his station. "_DevwI', _there's a gas giant two light-years from here. Latarran sensors won't be able to pick us up. We can prepare for phase two there."

"Excellent," Koth said, and knocked Kinsey's arm to get his attention. "Can _Voyager's?" _

He was already thinking of _Voyager _as a possible hostile, Kinsey realized. A day ago, he'd done the same thing. But now, it was harder. There was the unpleasant fact that he was already in this up to his neck.

Crowley and Kormack came onto the bridge. This had to be hell for Kormack, he thought. The science officer had the worst time adjusting to life on a Klingon vessel. The deal with the Karnaii had been his first chance to practice his specialty in a long time. A ship like _Voyager _was a paradise for him. And after only a few days, it had been taken away from him.

Crowley would be all right, he thought. She was rational to a fault, the way most engineers were. Her relationship with Karg would keep her on track. All the same, he could see the same thoughts in her eyes that were flitting through his own head. Doubts, confusion, the awakening of something that had been asleep for a very long time.

"Possibly," Kinsey replied after a moment. "Federation sensors are a lot better than Latarran, but it depends on who is manning those sensors, too. We should be okay."

Koth grunted. "Very well," he said. He eyed his officers, sensing something to be wrong. "How long will it take you to get the second weapon prepared?"

Crowley paused before answering. It was enough of a pause that Karg turned from his place at the helm to give her a puzzled look. Kinsey sighed, knowing his duty as first officer.

"Crowley," he said gently, lending his support to Koth's order.

"Twenty-four hours if we turn on the collectors now," Crowley said softly.

"The more time we have to capture and inject baryon particles," Kormack added, "the stronger the final payload will be."

Koth nodded. "_Voyager _will be in orbit of Spanos at least that long," he mused. "Latarran ships are only a threat to us in packs. We might have an extra twelve hours, perhaps more."

"Possibly," Kinsey said.

Koth leaned back and adopted a resolute air. Kinsey knew what this meant. He had made his decision. "Karg, lay in a course for the gas giant. Barkovitch, activate cloak. Crowley, Kormack, prepare the weapon."

_Vor'moch _turned, more or less in the opposite direction from where _Voyager _had gone, and its engines engaged. The view on the screen rippled as the ship cloaked. Kinsey sighed, and for one irrational moment wished he was still on the Federation ship.

_Voyager _was on its own mission of mercy. Now _Vor'moch _had to carry out its mission of destruction.


	7. Spanos

_Author's note: This chapter has been a bit delayed. That's because on February 3, I became a father again. It's a girl, we named her Isabelle, and she's doing great. But she does interrupt writing time a bit, so things may be slower in coming. But on with the show..._

Kormack loved this. That was the strange thing. He'd always been a slightly weird bloke; a science officer on a ship where science took a definite back seat to survival. Klingons weren't bad at science, when they put their minds to it, but they were mostly interested in the sort of science that resulted in bigger and better weapons. If it made a big boom, Klingons approved of it. Kormack had to prove his ability to do that in order to do this job. Crowley watched him, her features quirking in distaste.

The lights of the cargo bay were a little brighter than normal for a Klingon ship. They had to see what they were doing. Several crates were stacked up in the back. In the front was their current job. Crowley eyed it with some disdain, the way someone will when they have a job to do that they don't particularly want to do. That was a fair assessment of things.

In front of them, on a table, was a large podlike object the same diameter and general shape as a photon torpedo, but about twice as long. She had designed the casing to fit _Vor'moch's _torpedo tubes, and she'd helped Kormack design the warhead. The theoretical part of it was all Kormack's, though. She understood the basics of it – as an engineer, she had a good working knowledge of particle physics. She hadn't seen the destructive potential, though – mostly, her skills ran to making sure everything ran smoothly on the ship. Theory wasn't her bailiwick. Kormack had designed it. The poor bastard; it had been his first chance to be a science officer in months, or maybe years. He'd been so happy when they got all the scientific equipment salvaged from _Holden _up and running.

The weapon looked good, although clearly homemade. Cables ran from the ceiling into the warhead mounted inside the device. Flashing lights indicated the levels of particles currently in the warhead.

The basics of the device were open to anyone who understood particle physics. Baryon particles were subatomic particles. Most of them were plain old protons and neutrons; the building blocks of atomic nucleii. But there were others. The first exotic baryon particles had been discovered a few hundred years ago, even before warp drive became possible. Science had found more, and some had scary potential.

Klingon ships had been spitting out a particular type of exotic baryon particle for years. Crowley still wasn't sure why; she thought it had something to do with the Klingon procedure for breaking down dilithium. The Klingons didn't consider it an issue; they slapped on a particle sink, gathered them up, and dumped them when they had the opportunity. It hadn't ever been a problem, so they hadn't done anything more.

_Vor'moch, _however, was cobbled together from Federation technology as well as Klingon, and things were different. Somehow, it had spat out _another _type of exotic baryon, one that no one had ever seen before. She'd followed the Klingon lead and simply collected them until poor old Kormack had asked to see it once. Odd how that had worked. Penicillin had been invented by accident; some pommy who had found mold growing on his bread. So had dynamite. Now this.

She didn't want to watch Kormack fuss over his toy. He would coo over the bloody thing like a baby. There was something distasteful in it. Right now, he was bent over the access port, staring at the warhead and watching the particles accumulate and looking like he was about to read it a story and put it to bed.

"Have you got things under control?" she asked.

Kormack looked up, a bit startled, and smiled guiltily. "Oh, yes," he said. "The collection procedure is running perfectly well. It'll be ready for launch in sixteen hours, give or take. Of course, the longer we wait, the stronger the final result will be."

"Right," she said uncomfortably. "I'm going to grab some food. Comm me if you need me."

He nodded. "Of course," he said softly, and returned to purring over his toy.

She left the cargo bay, heading for the mess hall. Alpha shift had ended about ten minutes ago. Karg would be leaving the helm. Maybe some dinner with him would get her back on track.

Her combadge buzzed. "Bridge to Crowley." It was Koth. She made a face and tapped it.

"Go ahead," she said.

"We have Karnaii engineers aboard. They have requested some help. They will meet you in the mess hall."

"Understood," she said.

It had been easy to sympathize with the Karnaii when they'd first met them. _Vor'moch _had been low on supplies and looking for a trading partner. They'd found a Karnaii colony. Their story had struck a chord – brave little battlers, waging a war against a larger, better armed foe. What they had been doing was simply evening things out, allowing the brave Karnaii to have a fighting chance against their Latarran oppressors.

At first it had been simple: the Karnaii had traded food and dilithium, and _Vor'moch _had supplied them with better weapons and shield technology. A few years ago, she'd happened across schematics for some outdated cloaking devices in one of _Vor'moch's _memory datacores. They'd tossed that in. It had been an easy thing to toss in. _Vor'moch _could detect Karnaii ships anywhere they were, but the Latarrans would not be able to.

Of course, it was a clear violation of the Prime Directive, but she hadn't even thought about that until _Voyager _had come along.

The memories flickered through her mind as she headed up to the mess hall and muttered her order to the replicator. It materialized her request a moment later, and she took her meal to the officers' dining room.

Then, out of nowhere, _Voyager _had come out of the heavens. They'd helped, completely oblivious to how _Vor'moch _had gone into battle anyway. She had fought mightily to keep her face straight when Kinsey spun Janeway some fish story about a Karnaii convoy. Amazingly, the captain had bought it.

If _Voyager _didn't know now, they would soon. The Latarrans hadn't been able to keep up with either ship, but the Latarrans on Spanos would be able to tell them that it had been no Karnaii vessel that carried out this attack.

Of all the times to encounter another Alpha Quadrant vessel. They were within sight of reaching their goal. They would get _home. _But now, of all times, there had to be a vessel on a similar quest. It was hard to be reminded of what she had once been.

She saw Karg enter the messhall and waved to him. He came up to her and sat down. He eyed her carefully for a moment before speaking. She sighed and watched him back.

"You are troubled," Karg said.

Crowley sighed. "What makes you say that?"

He pointed at the pile of chocolate-covered cookies on her plate. "You replicated _raktajino _and Tim Tams," he said. "Ten of them. You only replicate more than five when you are upset about something."

Crowley took a cookie, bit off both ends, and stuck it in her _raktajino. _Then she sucked the beverage in, as if the cookie was a straw. Finally, she crammed the entire gooey mass in her mouth.

"That is truly revolting to watch," Karg said, his tone making it clear he found it more amusing than revolting.

"You eat live worms and I put up with that. If you don't like it, don't eat with me," Crowley rejoined after swallowing the gelatinous mass.

"What troubles you? _Voyager? _They are no threat to us. We would know if they were near."

Crowley sighed. "Not just _Voyager. _I don't know if you could understand. We've been on this ship so long, a lot of us have forgotten there _was _a Starfleet. Now we see people in the same uniform, and they give us new uniforms...and...well, it's not easy, mate."

Karg nodded. "You could wear Klingon uniform," he suggested. "I am sure Captain Koth would agree."

Crowley chuckled bitterly and made another Tim Tam into sludgy, caffeinated goo. "I know why _you _want to see me in Klingon uniform," she accused. "I don't care for having my boobs shoved up under my chin. I'm surprised your women don't mutiny."

"They do not mind. Ask Sayba." Karg grinned, a bit nervously.

"They don't know there are comfortable uniforms out there," Crowley said. "Never mind. It's just...well...what happens now? Nobody was supposed to know, but...," she trailed off.

A third voice made her look up. "It doesn't matter. We'll handle _Voyager." _

She looked up to see the craggy face of Commander Kinsey, who took a moment before sitting down at the table with them. He eyed Klingon and human in turn and then took a pull at at his mug.

"I know it's not easy, and I know that _Voyager _appeared at the worst possible time. All the same, we're proceeding as planned." He put a hand on his engineer's shoulder. "We're going _home, _Crowley. Doesn't that mean anything to you? We have a plan. We know what we have to do. We know what we're doing. In a few days, _Voyager _won't matter anymore. We'll be back in the Alpha Quadrant."

Megan Crowley took another sip of the Klingon coffee. Klingon coffee. Klingon ship. Klingon boyfriend. She'd never expected to have any of those things. What happened when they got back?

"Back to Q'onos, or Earth?" she asked.

Kinsey appeared thoughtful. "That depends," he said. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Karg appeared annoyed. "Haven't you served long enough with us to trust us?" he asked. "Do you think we would not support the Starfleeters?" In his eyes, there was obviously another question he wasn't going to ask, not in front of Kinsey.

"That's not it," she said. "How do we serve as Starfleet officers after...after this?" Her eyes flicked to Karg. "And are the Klingons at home going to be as open to Starfleet as you are?"

Karg's eyes narrowed. "They will learn," he said. "We have. We will stand behind our comrades."

She'd hear about it tonight. She could tell that from the look on his face. Kinsey sighed.

"Whatever happens then," he said, "we'll worry about it then. For now, our course is clear. You have your orders, Lieutenant. Carry them out."

Crowley sighed. "Aye, sir."

Kinsey nodded once and rose, heading out of the messhall. Karg cleared his throat.

"Do you really think we will not stand behind our comrades?" he repeated.

Crowley ate another Tim Tam in order to have a moment to think, enjoying the chocolatey, gooey taste.

"I know you would," she said. "But still, you _know _that other Klingons are going to mock you for being mates with us."

Karg shrugged. "Then they will. Our honor is still clear. We will defend it however we must."

"What about when we get back to the Alpha Quadrant?" she asked. "I mean, what's your family going to say...about us?"

Karg bared his teeth. "We shall see. Don't worry about it." His dark eyes held hers. "I could say the same for you, couldn't I?"

Crowley laughed ruefully. "It's a little different," she said archly. "You come from an ancient house on Q'onos that's thousands of years old. I come from a dusty little bush town in Queensland."

He meant what he said: he would stand by her. He'd been the one to save her from being turned into spare parts by the Vidiians. It wasn't really the future that was bothering her; it was the present. She didn't like what was happening in that cargo bay one bit.

The Karnaii engineering contingent came up to them then, interrupting the conversation.. The Karnaii were descended from rodents, and they looked the part. Their faces were furry, and they had whiskers. They were small and sleek. She recognized one of them – the chief engineer of the first Karnaii ship they'd ever met. His name was Srask, and he was a good engineer, doing a lot with what he had.

Karnaii ships were absolute disasters. They were trying to fight a war on a shoestring. Their ships were rickety and dangerous, and they couldn't do much more than pinprick their opponents. Half the bloody Karnaii fleet couldn't do more than warp three. The Maquis, back in the Alpha Quadrant, had been fighting a luxurious war by comparison.

"Good evening," Srask said in his squeaky voice, and extended a PADD. His battle uniform was sharp and crisply clean; the Karnaii were nuts about grooming. "I'm hoping you can help. We are having problems maintaining the cloaking field for longer than half an hour."

Crowley nodded. "Let's see the schematics," she said coolly. This was better: a technical problem she could work on. It would keep her mind off her problems: what happened when she returned to the Alpha Quadrant, Karg, and the weapon being slowly armed in the cargo bay.

It almost worked.

* * *

The colony of Spanos was a horror.

From space, everything had looked normal. The planet was a class-M planet, like many others. The colony had not been visible from space; the only indication of sentient life had been the Latarran ships converging on the planet. The sheer amount of ships was an indicator of trouble. When twenty ships were flying in a defensive pattern around a colony of only a hundred and fifty thousand people, that meant something was up.

Orbiting the planet had allowed _Voyager _to use its sensors, and that was where it had gotten harder. They could monitor the Latarran frequencies and hear the transmissions of relief workers on the surface. They could scan the main city; the power grid was shut off. The main city's highway system was a strange cross between a graveyard and a parking lot; the ground vehicles that Latarran colonists used stood still and abandoned. Only a few shuttles from military ships flitted back and forth.

A scan of the planet indicated no immediate danger; rescue and relief workers had reported no problems. Something had clearly gone wrong on this world, but there was no obvious battle scar. Captain Janeway had ordered an away team down to the surface. Tom Paris and the EMH were there to provide what medical support they could.

Almost all of the colonists were in the main city now. The hospitals were clogged with them. They were suffering from radiation burns, and it made Kathryn Janeway ill at her stomach to see them. Some bore sickly pink burns; others had deep red ones almost the color of human blood. Many had open, suppurating sores. Latarran ships were bringing down as many medical supplies as they could, and _Voyager _was also giving what it had to spare. Yet the sheer numbers of the wounded and dying seemed to overwhelm and enfeeble the efforts at aid.

The screams and cries of the hospital would remain with Kathryn Janeway for a long time, she thought. Three days ago, this had been a vibrant, growing colony. Now, it was a crowded island of horribly injured people crying out in pain as they died. Most of the colony was a ghost town; abandoned houses and vehicles for blocks on end.

Tom Paris and the doctor remained at Spanos's main hospital. She did not envy them. All the same, she had to meet with General Trame and see to the military situation. _Voyager _would help defend Spanos against whoever had done this.

As she walked along the path, recent sights and memories weighing down her mind and stride, she tried to think. It was hard to think rationally after the nightmarish vision of the hospital, but she had to. Rational thought could help keep the horror at bay, or at least shove it out of her consciousness for a littlle while.

Tuvok and a science team were trying to determine what had happened here. The Karnaii were the most likely suspects. Even Kinsey, who supported them, had admitted they fought dirty. Even though they had little access to modern technology, the 24th century offered a whole plethora of options for weapons that worked on a planetary scale.

But whatever it was had left little trace. They didn't know what sort of weapon had been deployed against this colony. But they knew what it _wasn't. _It wasn't nuclear; there was no fallout at all. It wasn't cobalt; a tricorder would have picked it up instantly. It wasn't trilithium; her Maquis knew how to scan for that. It wasn't biogenic; biogenic weapons didn't burn their victims.

The colony sported one military base at the northern tip of the main city. Even walking through the city was eerie. Once she got away from the hospital, the silence was deafening. Houses sat unoccupied. Offices and factories were completely still, devoid of workers. The entire place was maddeningly sterile.

The other center of activity on the colony was the military garrison. There, armed soldiers manned every checkpoint. There was a sense of determination here. An atrocity had been committed, and these soldiers meant to see that it did not happen again. There were phase cannons set up around the base. They were moving back and forth across the skies, searching for intruders.

A Latarran soldier stopped her at the main gate. It didn't take long to verify her identity and her purpose. The Latarrans assigned her a car and driver and brought her to the general's office. It was located underground, and well armored against an attack. There was a bunker-like feeling here: a feeling of concrete and claustrophobia.

General Trame looked pale and troubled. His face was pinched and there were bags under his eyes. He rose when she came into his office.

"Captain Janeway," he said. "Welcome. I wish it could be under better circumstances."

"Thank you. I understand," she replied. "We have our medical staff offering assistance. What is the current military situation?"

"Our current military status is nominal. Spanos is secure and free of any enemy vessels."

"The Karnaii," Janeway said.

"Yes. They had engaged in a few pinprick attacks after...after the main attack. Cowards." He shook his head in anger. "We should have killed them all when we had the chance."

Janeway paused. If anyone was entitled to anger, he was. All the same, war had a way of degenerating and costing more lives the more it did. "The Karnaii carried out this attack?"

He sighed. "That's what we thought. Except that the way this attack was carried out...suggests otherwise." Trame turned on a screen that resembled those aboard _Voyager. _He cleared his throat and tapped something on a keyboard at his desk. On the screen, several small, rickety ships materializd over the colony and fired at it. After a brief salvo, they returned to space, vanishing from view.

"Karnaii ships were engaging in opportunistic attacks for a few days after the first attack," he said. "They have made some great leaps in technology. These will be dangerous times we live in."

Janeway tilted her head and felt ill.

"The tactics are pure Karnaii – hit and run. Those weapons are new, however. Also, that...disappearing device." He adjusted the screen. "The ships simply disappear from our sensors. It's enough to let them get away. We can detect them shortly afterwards, but they appear to be improving the technology quite rapidly."

"A cloaking device," Janeway said. She could see where this was going. If the Karnaii had new weapons and cloaking technology, then the old balance of power the Latarrans were used to would no longer apply. The game would have new rules, rules not in the favor of the Latarrans.

"You have heard of such a device?" the general asked. "We have never seen such a thing."

Janeway nodded. "They're a common development on our side of the galaxy," she explained.

"Does _Voyager _have such a thing?" The general seemed shocked.

"No," Janeway said, and swallowed. _Voyager _had no cloaking device...but _Vor'moch _did. "Tell me about the main attack. What happened here, General Trame?"

The general adjusted his uniform jacket. "Four days ago," he began, "Spanos was a normal colony. From what we have reported, a ship simply...appeared in the atmosphere. It launched what we believe was a torpedo of some kind. My men are attempting to retrieve any of it that may remain. From eyewitness reports, we know that there was a great flash, and then...this."

He leaned forward, and it seemed his thin frame might explode from the anger thrumming in him. "All power went dead. None of our computers or machinery worked any more. We had no contact with Latarra Prime or anyone else. People were hideously burned. For four days, this world was thrown back to the Stone Age. Meanwhile, Karnaii ships attacked at their pleasure, strafing and adding to the death toll, hitting us when we could not fight back." He banged his fist on the table. "This colony had been peaceful! We had nothing to do with the Karnaii. We had no quarrel with them. All that is on Salim Ru. Now look. The Karnaii are a threat to all life. They must be stopped."

Kathryn Janeway watched him, wondering what would become of this area of space after _Voyager _had gone. The urge for revenge was understandable, even sympathetic. But if the Karnaii had new weapons to go along with their ruthlessness, then Spanos could become the first in an entire series of grievously wounded Latarran worlds.

"First," she said, "we have to secure the situation and investigate." Her tone dropped and became softer. "General, I understand your anger. I share it. I would feel the same desire for revenge in your shoes. But first, we have to look at what we _do _know. Was it a Karnaii ship who launched this weapon against Spanos in the first place?"

Trame's hand clenched. His face twisted...and then eased off. Janeway nodded; there weren't many people who could clamp down on a rage like that. They made for good commanding officers.

"No," he said. "A defensive squadron encountered and engaged the ship that did. It was much larger than most Karnaii vessels – about the size of yours. Unfortunately, they were...all lost in the battle."

As soon as he had said _the size of yours, _the bottom had begun to fall out of Kathryn Janeway's stomach. Cloaking devices. Energy weapons – ones that looked a lot like disruptors. She didn't like where this was going.

"We have this transmission, which we received from the squadron leader," he said, tapped out another sequence on the keyboard. The screen flickered and formed into the view from a Latarran bridge. The audio wasn't great; the high-pitched squeal that was the Latarran version of red alert blurred with the voices of crew in the background.

"They've destroyed our wingman!"

"Reading heavy damage to the front hull! Shields are down!"

"Evasive maneuvers! Full impulse!"

"Hull breaches on decks two and three! Captain, we're losing structural integrity! We're losing!"

The screen fuzzed into static and went blank.

It was only a few seconds, but it was enough. On the viewscreen of the Latarran ship was a large, green ship. It spat disruptor and phaser fire at its opponents. It bore Klingon wings and a Federation impulse engine that glowed blue. It had taken wounds that she had seen before – wounds she had helped to repair, in fact.

The _Vor'moch. _

"That is the ship that attacked Spanos," General Trame said. "Captain, we have been seeking that ship ever since we re-established contact with Latarra Prime and the other colonies. We haven't been able to find it."

Janeway was about to open her mouth and ask why; _Voyager _hadn't had any problem finding out. But the answer was clear enough: Latarran technology wasn't as advanced as their own.

"That ship has a better version of the disappearing device that the Karnaii are trying to use," he continued. "If the Karnaii obtain that device, along with their new weapons, then they are a threat to every Latarran alive, not just those on Salim Ru. Can your ship detect this one?"

For a few moments, she did not know what to think or feel. The sense of betrayal was palpable. This crime against a world that had offered no threat to Starfleet would not be borne. She wouldn't stand for it. Kinsey and his men had dined with her, repaired their ship with her help...all the while concealing this monstrous act. What else might they have to hide?

But there was something more. Why had _Vor'moch _done this? It didn't make sense for _Vor'moch _to attack _this _colony; the disputed colony was Salim Ru, not Spanos. Unless...

Everything fell into place. Karnaii ships, using their new weapons and cloaking devices against an enemy that was conveniently helpless. Shakedown conditions. The Karnaii would be able to identify problems that might come up in the field without having to go to full battle testing.

The attack on Spanos, horrific though it was, had only been a test. It had allowed the Karnaii to test out their new weapons, and it had allowed _Vor'moch _ to test its new weapon. Somewhere nearby, _Vor'moch _was preparing another weapon to use against Salim Ru. The Latarran ships guarding Spanos would be tied up and unable to fend off either _Vor'moch _or the Karnaii follow-up.

Then she felt her sense of strength return. She knew what her mission was. Steel lined her spine and she rose.

"General Trame," she said icily, "I intend to do just that. I can assure you that ship will no longer present any sort of threat to Latarran security. I'll find that ship, and I'll stop it."

The general nodded. "Thank you, Captain Janeway," he said.

"I'll see to it that _Voyager _provides all the medical supplies we can spare before we leave," she added.

"Thank you," the general repeated. His eyes touched hers for a moment, cool and piercing. One warrior to another. "Good hunting, Captain."


	8. The Karnaii

_Author's note: _

_Thanks to everyone who welcomed my daughter. She is doing fine. _

_PG: Janeway isn't going to be too happy with the Vor'moch. But they're not done angering her yet... _

_KrazyKatKrueger: Thank you, I'm glad you like the story._

_Marchpusey: I suspect it'll be a while before my daughter gets around to reading my fics. Still, there are a few more Voyager fics banging around my brain. _

_H-Bomb: Thanks, glad you like the fic. _

_Saavik: Yes, I suppose the Alpha Quadrant will have some fun making sense of these more multicultural Klingons, but there's plenty afoot in the Delta Quadrant. _

_JadziaKathryn: Yes, all will be explained in future chapters. There will be more Crowley/Karg to come._

The Karnaii starbase was too small for Kinsey's tastes. They'd built it to their own specifications, of course. It was poor and ramshackle, just like everything else they had. It smelled dank, like oil. The lighting was low and skittered on and off in places. The biggest thing was that it was small. He was a lot taller than your average Karnaii. He had to hunch over in the corridors to avoid whacking his head.

The situation on _Vor'moch _was normal. Koth had elected to wait an additional twenty-four hours to finalize the operation on Salim Ru; the warhead would be much stronger with more exotic baryons.

The Karnaii had asked for help in deploying disruptors and cloaking devices, so he had brought an away team to the starbase to help them. Crowley and some of her engineers were down with the Karnaii engineering team.

His job was to finalize things with the Karnaii high command and make sure the squeaky little buggers fulfilled their end of the bargain. They were good allies, but they'd been on the demanding side. Give us disruptors, give us shields, give us cloaking devices, give us the exotic baryon warhead. Then again, they did have something the _Vor'moch _wanted very badly. Strange that a small, beaten-down race should have the key, but fate played strange tricks sometimes. They were a warrior race, much like the Klingons. They were fighting for their homes against a larger, better-armed foe. They didn't hold to Klingon standards of honor, but life in the Delta Quadrant had proved one Klingon proverb correct: that there was nothing more honorable than victory.

First contact with the Karnaii had gone smoothly, other than an amusing episode in which the universal translator had goofed on Crowley's friendly use of the word 'mate'. The engineers had thought it was hilarious, Karnaii and _Vor'moch _alike. The Karnaii had been interested in trading, and at first that was all it had been. Then...well, then things had gone pretty far pretty fast.

He believed in what he was doing. Koth supported it, and Koth was his captain. He was a good first officer. First officers backed their captains. They might disagree in private, but the crew needed a united front. Besides, they were helping a scorned, oppressed race overcome their oppressors. There was honor in that. _Vor'moch _would carry out the first operation, and after that the Karnaii would have to stand or fall on their own two feet.

The door to the admiral's office opened. It was a small office, all things considered. Even his cabin back on _Holden _had been bigger. It was a bit dank, smelling of oil and grease. This whole starbase was a place with its mind on its work. The Karnaii weren't a wealthy race. They made do with what they had.

The aide showed him in, and he took a seat. The admiral seemed happy to see him. They couldn't smile the way humans did, but his dark eyes lit up.

"Commander Kinsey," Admiral Rhoden said. "I am pleased you could join us."

"We're glad to help," Kinsey said. "We don't have a lot of time. My engineers are meeting with yours as we speak, but we have to be back on _Vor'moch _soon. Zero hour is in twenty-four hours."

The admiral's whiskers twitched as he thought. "I'll see that your team receives appropriate quarters," he said. "Wasn't zero hour scheduled for today?"

Kinsey nodded. "It was," he said. "The warhead will be stronger with more exotic baryons. The results of the test were positive, but we need to be sure. There's a stronger military presence than Spanos. We have to knock all of that out. Are your forces ready to move once we do?"

"Of course. Our ships and troops are on alert. The instant it is safe, we will move in and retake the colony." Rhoden seemed hopeful. This was something the Karnaii had hoped for for decades. Now, in a matter of a few hours, it would be a reality.

"I also need to know about your end of the bargain," Kinsey said.

The admiral nodded. "Fair enough. We have five ships set aside for your use. We are not familiar with this sort of thing. Can your engineers brief ours on what we must do?"

Kinsey nodded. "It's not technically difficult. I'm sure you'll be able to handle it. We also need to discuss _Voyager." _

Rhoden seemed unconcerned. "I read your report. Our intelligence indicates it is still in orbit of Spanos. If it leaves orbit, you'll be the first to know."

"Good," Kinsey said.

Maybe things would work out after all, he thought. If _Voyager _stayed around Spanos, they could go after Salim Ru. And once that was done, they'd be able to kiss the Delta Quadrant good-bye. They'd be home. Earth for some. Qo'nos for others. What would happen then? He wasn't sure.

With a little luck, they'd be able to get this over with and get home. _Voyager _would have to remain behind in the Delta Quadrant, and he regretted that. They were fellow Starfleet officers, after all. There didn't seem to be any way around it, though.

One more night on this ramshackle starbase. Only one more violent Delta Quadrant species to deal with. They'd be back in the Alpha Quadrant in a couple of days. After that, Koth had promised him and the entire Starfleet contingent of _Vor'moch _that they would all drink blood wine in the Central City of Qo'nos.

That would make all of this worth it.

* * *

There was tension in the air. The senior officers were all gathered in the readyroom. They'd heard from Captain Janeway that plans had abruptly changed. _Voyager _would no longer offer humanitarian assistance to the stricken colony. Instead, they would offload what medical supplies they had on board, and the Latarrans would have to take care of Spanos. 

Captain Janeway entered the readyroom, her stride quick and businesslike. She sat down at the head of the table and eyed her officers for a long moment. Her face seemed carved in stone, and when she spoke, her tone was icy.

"I apologize for my lateness," she said coolly. "Commander, have you briefed them?"

Chakotay nodded. "Everyone knows we're leaving," he said.

"Very well. I should say first that I'm not angry with anyone here. You've all performed admirably. However, it seems our friends on the _Vor'moch _got more involved in the Latarran-Karnaii war than they let on." She looked up, and her mouth quirked. "Mr. Tuvok, what has the science team found?"

Tuvok checked his PADD. "The Spanos colony was hit with an unconventional weapon," he began. "It was launched via torpedo. The remains of the torpedo were discovered late last night by Latarran military forces. Our science team was able to examine it."

Janeway looked up. "What did you find?" she asked.

"The warhead itself was destroyed in the blast. All that remained was a portion of the casing and the drive motor. Nonetheless, we were able to detect large amounts of radiation. Eyewitness reports have provided us with enough information to piece together what occurred."

"The weapon appears to have been modified to launch in a planet's atmosphere. The warhead created a large radiation wave, similar to an electromagnetic pulse. All electronics on the planet became nonfunctional, and colonists have suffered severe radiation burns. However, the radiation began to dissipate very quickly. Dissipation began within twelve hours of the attack. By the time _Voyager _arrived, it was no longer detectable. However, the colonists and their machinery were still suffering the effects."

Tuvok's voice was dry as he continued. "Our theory is that the weapon was intended to serve as an enhanced radiation weapon. Colonists are killed and equipment ceases to function. The quick dissipation of the radiation ensures that follow-up attacks can be administered as needed. Modern ships provide ample shielding from the radiation in the planet's atmosphere. Without modern equipment, the colonists cannot fight back. However, equipment comes back online quickly; Spanos's main power generator is already functional."

"The tactics are classic. With such a weapon, the Karnaii can attack Latarran colonies in one of two ways. The weapon can be used to provide a devastating blow against Latarran colonies at little to no cost. As well, this weapon, combined with recent advances in Karnaii technology, make it possible for the Karnaii to take the colony of Salim Ru. The weapon would produce similar results to those seen on Spanos. If Karnaii ships were available to provide follow-up, they could easily overrun the colony. Without communications or defensive systems, the colony would easily fall. By the time Latarran military forces arrived, the Karnaii would have ample time to occupy the colony and place its defensive systems under their control."

"What about the other technologies?" Janeway asked.

"The Karnaii cloaking technology is outdated by our standards. It is sufficient to give them a significant tactical advantage over the Latarrans. The new weapons systems have similar forensic signatures to Klingon disruptors."

There was a heavy silence for a moment. Janeway's lips twisted. Tuvok broke it to say what everyone had been thinking.

"The evidence that we have suggests that the actions of the _Vor'moch _have irrevocably altered the Karnaii-Latarran conflict," Tuvok said. "Regardless of which side one may sympathize with, we know that the Latarrans have the military capacity to annihilate the Karnaii. They have not done so, owing to a large segment of Latarran political thought that favors negotiation and truce. The Karnaii have fought ruthlessly. They have never possessed the capacity to actually destroy the Latarrans...until now."

"Why would _Vor'moch _do all this?" Kim asked. "They seem to have gone all out."

"We don't know why," Chakotay said. "And it doesn't really matter why."

"For now," Janeway said, "we're going to try and intercept the _Vor'moch. _We'll also defend Latarran ships and colonies. Dismissed."

She was troubled on the bridge. Around her, her crew began the process of plotting a course to search out the half-Klingon ship. They knew their jobs and did them well; she didn't have to supervise them. It gave her some time to think.

How could Starfleet officers do something like this? The Klingon influence couldn't explain it all. Why? What could have caused the crew of the former _Holden _to assist in this type of atrocity? It was one thing to know that _Vor'moch _had done this things. But why? She'd had her share of diplomatic encounters with Delta Quadrant species, but never had she involved the crew of _Voyager _so deeply in Delta Quadrant intrigues.

"Reading a ship, three light-years away, bearing two twenty six mark four," Harry said suddenly.

That urged her out of her reverie. "Is it the _Vor'moch_?"

"No. It's Karnaii."

Janeway nodded and gave Chakotay a sidelong glance. He nodded slowly.

"Let's see what they can tell us," she directed. "Lay in a pursuit course. Warp nine."

"Pursuit course, maximum warp, aye," Tom acknowledged. The engines whined. The small speck was only traveling at warp three, and there was little contest. The ship on the screen looked worn; its hull plating was bent back in places. One impulse engine was flickering. When _Voyager _began to close on it, it made a valiant effort to increase to warp four. It turned and wheeled desperately as the _Intrepid-_class cruiser, at least four times larger, began to close the gap.

Janeway found herself feeling unpleasantly like a cat catching a mouse. "Hail them," she said.

When the viewscreen shifted from the fleeing Karnaii ship, she was surprised to find her analogy apter than she thought. The Latarrans had described the Karnaii as vicious, predatorial killers. They didn't look the part. They looked like bipedal mice or rats. The captain sat in a command chair, much like her own. His – or hers, she couldn't tell – eyes were dark oilspots against the gray fur of its face. Its whiskers wobbled. It did not blink as it watched her, but that didn't mean a whole lot: she didn't know if the Karnaii even had eyelids.

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship _Voyager," _she said, and paused. Technically, first-contact protocols applied to the Karnaii as well as the Latarrans. She had to be careful; just because _Vor'moch _had thrown away the rulebook did not mean she could. "I wish to speak with you about the attack on Spanos."

The rodentlike creature emitted several squeaks before the universal translator made sense of it. "I am Captain Kreech of the Karnaii Defense Organization," it said. "We have no information of any attack."

Janeway didn't believe that for a minute, but she let it go. She was still determined to do this in a way that somehow resembled Starfleet policy. "The Latarran colony on Spanos has suffered a devastating attack," she said bluntly.

The Karnaii captain did not seem surprised. "The Latarran oppressors have had their day." Unmistakable scorn and hatred colored its voice, unchanged by the translator. "Many Karnaii children have died at their brutal hands. They chase us. They hunt us. They confine us to only the most desolate planets. After such tyranny, they can only expect retribution. If that is all, Captain Janeway, I have to rendezvous with another vessel."

Janeway nodded. Somehow, she'd known it would be like this. The story was depressingly familiar, and only the names of the players were different. The Kazon and the Trabe; the Vori and the Kradin; now the Karnaii and the Latarrans. Two races blinded by hate and locked in a death struggle, wasting untold potential and lives in the process.

"I'd like to ask you some questions," Janeway said. "I want to know where you got your cloaking devices and disruptors."

Kreech did blink then, surprising her. He raised a paw to his mouth and groomed himself in a fastidious manner. "Those? Why, from our starport at our last refit, of course."

Janeway gritted her teeth. Dealing with Seven had accustomed her to literal answers. Kreech was being deliberately literal in his answer.

"I'm looking for a ship called the _Vor'moch_," Janeway said. "They are the ones who gave you those weapons."

The ratlike being shook its head. "Never heard of them."

_You're lying. _The words leaped to her lips and she had to fight them off. "The weapons you have are Klingon disruptors. I'd like to inspect them, and I'd like to know where the _Vor'moch _currently is."

"Absolutely not," Kreech squeaked. "This is our ship, and our weapons. What business is it of yours? Do we Karnaii not have the same right of self-defense as other species? Would you prefer we simply lay down and permitted the Latarrans to brutalize us at their whim?"

"There's no reason for hostility," she said. "We're not trying to point fingers at anybody. We're trying to investigate an attack, and,"

"The entire Karnaii fleet knows who you are, Captain Janeway," Kreech said scornfully. "You are a Latarran lackey. I will give you this advice in parting. Leave this area of space now. The day of reckoning is coming for the Latarrans. There is no reason for you to be caught in it."

Janeway leaned forward in her seat. Her eyes flared at the rodentlike captain. "I am _no one's _lackey, Captain Kreech," she said. Her voice was lined with steel and ice. "I am simply trying to,"

Kreech cut the connection. The Karnaii vessel turned. Its engines flared and it leaped to low warp, heading away from _Voyager _with arrogant disregard.

Janeway let air hiss through her teeth. For a moment, she was tempted to pursue the Karnaii vessel and order a tractor beam. Yet she had to think, if she wanted to accomplish her goal.

The Karnaii knew who she was. Obviously, they would not help _Voyager _end this in a way that didn't involve needless death. The Latarrans weren't either. Tuvok had been monitoring Latarran frequencies, and currently they were not interested in the idea of a negotiated settlement – small wonder, after the attack on Spanos. The Latarrans were likely going to gear up for war. The odds of any kind of peaceful resolution were slim. If the _Vor'moch _attacked Salim Ru, there would be none.

"Shall we pursue?" Tuvok asked.

Janeway pondered for a second or two. "No," she directed. "Keep tabs on them. I want to see where they're going."

"Sensors indicate a Karnaii starbase – or starport, as their captain referred to it," Tuvok replied after a moment. "That is the logical destination of the Karnaii cruiser."

"Distance?"

"Five point two light years. It is in an area of space beyond the disputed border. According to the maps we received from General Trame, it is in the Karnaii Reservation."

At first, it didn't mean anything to her. She sat back in her chair and noticed Chakotay swallow and clench his fist. His body tensed. He gritted his teeth and stared at the screen, determined not to let anyone see his reaction.

"Maybe this isn't our fight," he said after a long moment.

"Excuse me?" She turned her head and stared at him. How could he say something like that?

"Maybe this isn't our fight," he repeated. "We may be able to intercept the _Vor'moch, _but we can't stop two races from killing each other."

She stared at him in disbelief and growing anger. He had seen what had happened on Spanos. How could he ignore the fact that the atrocity on Spanos was the handiwork of _Starfleet officers? _That overrode everything.

_"_We're going after _Vor'moch," _she said. "That's final."

"Is there a point?" he asked. "What were you planning to do when you find them?"

Janeway stopped, and stared him down for several moments. How could he do this? How could he fight her on the bridge like this? Didn't he understand? Stopping another attack took precedence over everything.

"Mr. Chakotay," she said icily. "My readyroom, if you please."

He followed behind in the icy vortex of her wake. Her bridge officers could tell she was angry. It didn't matter. She stormed to her desk and sat down, staring hard at him, letting him see her anger.

"Just what the hell do you mean questioning my orders on the bridge like that?" she asked heatedly.

Chakotay gave her a grim look she hadn't seen before. "Have you thought through what you're going to do?" he asked. "What were you going to do with that Karnaii captain? Board his ship and take his weapons away?"

Janeway stuck her chin out. "He should never have had them in the first place," she averred.

Chakotay shrugged. "Maybe so," he acknowledged. "But he does. And according to Starfleet rules, you can't just board another ship and take away his weapons because you don't approve of how he got them. Are we going to disarm every ship in the Karnaii fleet? If so, are we going to make the Latarrans treat them humanely, so that they don't just stick them on..._reservations?" _

"First, we have to find _Vor'moch _and prevent them from attacking Salim Ru," Janeway said archly. "After that, we'll find some way of getting the Karnaii and the Latarrans to the table. But I'll be _damned _if I'm going to stand by and allow Starfleet officers to tromp all over the Prime Directive. They've changed _everything _about this war."

He leaned forward and stabbed the air with his finger. "And what you need to understand is this: you _can't _change it back. And maybe you shouldn't."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying we should just toddle off and allow the _Vor'moch _to slaughter more innocent colonists?"

His mouth quirked. "I'm not saying that. We can pursue _Vor'moch." _

"I'm so glad I have your permission, _Commander." _

"Listen to me. I know you, Kathryn. You don't want to _just _stop the _Vor'moch. _You want to make _everything _right, and you _can't _do that. You can't force a diplomatic settlement on the Latarrans and the Karnaii if neither one wants it. You can't serve as a neutral go-between because we're already allied with the Latarrans. You can't take back the weapons and cloaking devices. Even if you pursued every last Karnaii ship, they still have the knowledge of how to build more. Were you going to murder every last Karnaii engineer? Patrol this area of space for the next twenty years? They believe in what they're fighting for. And if the Latarrans are putting them on reservations, maybe we _shouldn't _defend them."

There was sense in his words, and it stung her. She would prefer a diplomatic settlement, but that wasn't likely. She was infuriated by the actions of the _Vor'moch, _and if there was a way to put that deadly genie back in the bottle she would do it. There wasn't a starship captain worth his or her pips who liked being told that something was too big for them to accomplish.

"Starfleet rules are clear," Chakotay continued, either unaware or simply ignoring the irony of _he _being the one to defend those rules. "These are two sovereign races. If we can't convince them to try diplomacy, then we can't interfere."

"_Vor'moch _already has," she said icily. "I'm just restoring the balance."

"How?" Chakotay pressed. "Are you going to give the Latarrans better sensor technology? More effective planet-killing weapons? Modern phasers and shields? It's a slippery slope. You'd be doing exactly the same thing you're condemning the _Vor'moch _for."

"I'll do what I deem right," Janeway said stubbornly. "Besides, _you _didn't trust the _Vor'moch _crew. You were right."

Chakotay sighed. "I don't approve of what they did," he said. "But we also have another ship to worry about. _Voyager. _Starfleet couldn't stop the Maquis in the Alpha Quadrant, and that was with a whole fleet. We're only one ship. Even if the Karnaii have little ships, they have supply lines and backup. We don't. We have to think about our own ship, our own crew."

Janeway's lips skinned back from her teeth. She took a moment to clamp down and make herself calm down. This was because that one word – _reservation – _had stung him in a place he hadn't expected. That was all. She strove to make her voice softer and sought the right words.

"Chakotay, I realize that the Latarrans may not be...completely on the moral high ground. And I am aware that we can't do everything. For now, let's concentrate on the basics. I want to stop renegade Starfleet officers from committing another atrocity. I want to stop the _Vor'moch _and take their Starfleet crew into custody. After that, we'll have to see. Maybe we can't stop the Latarrans and Karnaii from escalating to full-blown war. But we ought to _try_. Do you really disagree with that?"

Chakotay's lips were a thin line, but she could see him clamp down just as she had.

"No," he said finally. "All right. Let's concentrate on the basics."

They went back out to the bridge. She could feel the tense demeanor of the bridge crew. Calmly, she assumed her seat and cleared her throat. Chakotay sat down beside her. There was a peace, if not complete agreement.

"Mr. Tuvok," she said crisply. "Are there any signs of the _Vor'moch_?"

"No, captain. They have not answered any of our hails, and sensors show no signs of them."

"Then we'll have to go with the people who _do _know where they are," Chakotay said with forced calmness.

"I agree," Janeway said, more for the benefit of the junior officers than for his sake. "Set a course for the Karnaii starbase. Let's find out what they know."


	9. Moment of Truth

_Author's note: _

_Wow, everyone seems to have liked the universal translator goof. It's just not programmed for Aussie slang..._

_Saavik: Yes, Kreech did anger Janeway, but there's more Janeway angering to be done. _

_Darth Shatner: Thank you. Shorter? I dunno; my last Voyager fic was 86,000 words. _

_H-Bomb: Glad you like the story. I don't know if my daughter will read this or not; she's only three weeks old. But we'll see. _

_Worker72: Janeway may or may not be on safe legal ground. We'll get into that here and the next chapter. But she does have this habit of doing what she wants anyway. There will be more Janeway/Chakotay arguing to come. _

_KrazyKatKrueger: Glad you like it. _

_JadziaKathryn: Glad you like the story. The questions on the alliance will be answered in the next chapter – not this one, but the next one after this. Yes, calling Janeway a lackey would irritate her. _

_On with the show..._

The Karnaii starbase was not much bigger than _Voyager _itself. It was squat and had a mushroom-shaped top. It was surrounded with the small cruisers that constituted the bulk of the ragtag Karnaii fleet. From the looks of it, _Voyager _wouldn't even be able to dock there; the docking ports were too small.

As _Voyager _approached, the starbase became a flurry of activity. Two long tubes began to glow on either side of the mushroom cap. Those were probably weapons. They didn't show up on scanners as Klingon disruptors, so that was something. Several ships swiftly undocked and turned to face _Voyager _in space. About twelve or thirteen, she figured. They hadn't locked weapons yet. That was something.

"They're not too happy to see us," Paris mused.

"Hail them," Janeway said tightly.

A moment later, another Karnaii face appeared on the viewscreen.

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager," _she said sternly. "I want to talk to the commanding officer of this starbase."

This Karnaii had a bit darker fur than Kreech. "I am Admiral Rhoden of the Karnaii Defense Organization," he said. "You are allied to the Latarrans. You have no business here. Please withdraw."

_At least he said 'please', _Janeway thought. "Admiral Rhoden, I assure you our intentions are peaceful. We are not here on the Latarrans' behalf. We're here looking for another ship. The _Vor'moch." _

The admiral's whiskers wiggled. "There is no such ship docked here," he said after a moment. Janeway fought the urge to roll her eyes. She could _see _that; the _Vor'moch _would have been as impossible to hide as _Voyager _herself.

"We're also aware that you are planning a military strike against the Latarrans," Janeway added. "That's only going to cause a lot of needless deaths – Latarran _and _Karnaii."

The admiral waved contemptuously with a clawed hand. Disdain dripped from his voice. "As opposed to now, where the needless deaths are only our own?"

Janeway paused. She'd seen this before. A small, ragtag army that utterly, completely believed in what they were doing. They'd seen that before, all right. The Maquis were a prime example.

"I'd like to send my first officer to you to negotiate," she said. She didn't know where it came from, only that it felt right. If anyone could convince the Karnaii to listen to reason, Chakotay would be the man.

Chakotay turned and stared at her blankly. "What are you doing?"

"Trust me," she whispered.

"There is no need for us to hear the pleas of an apologist for tyrants," the admiral said scornfully. "Anyone who condones Latarran crimes has no place here."

She could see it in his eyes. _You're trying to do everything. Find the Vor'moch. That's all you can do. _They'd come to a truce. She meant to keep it if she could, but she was going to try for the whole thing.

A soft beep came from the arm of her chair. Janeway glanced down carefully. There was a small monitor built into the arm of the chair, and words were glowing across it. Starfleet had long foreseen the need for bridge crew to quietly inform their captain of something while they were on screen. It wasn't the first time they'd used it, and it wouldn't be the last. Carefully, she let her eyes slide down for just a moment, not wanting to stare at the screen and give herself away. Years in command had given her good practice at it.

She knew instantly it was Tuvok. He was the only one who would spell every word and punctuate correctly even on a screen the size of her palm. She moved her foot and shifted in her chair to offer a little more cover while she read it.

_Captain Janeway, sensors indicate the presence of a Federation shuttlecraft. The Karnaii have assembled ships to hide it. It is currently powered down and no life-signs are aboard. I am attempting to surreptitiously scan the starbase for Vor'moch officers. They are shielded, but the shielding routines are an old modulation technique. I will inform you if I am successful. Lt. Cmdr. Tuvok. _

Tapping a few keys served to kick the message over to Chakotay's monitor. He looked at it and nodded slowly. The grim line of his jaw softened a little. He knew what he had to do: buy some time. What she had to do was get him in there.

"We're interested in hearing your side of the story," Janeway said quickly. "Admiral, we are part of the United Federation of Planets. We're not strongarm men for the Latarrans. We believe in peaceful negotiation. All we're asking is a little of your time. Perhaps you could come to an agreement. My first officer is a former member of a...," she paused. "a citizen militia. He knows what it is like to be forced from your home. He can represent your interests...if you give him a chance."

The ratlike admiral tensed. It was pretty obvious why; if there were _Vor'moch _personnel on that starbase, he wanted to keep them there. He glanced down at something on his desk. She was sure it was the analogue to the monitor on her chair.

"If the Karnaii launch a strike against the Latarrans while we're here, we are obligated to defend them," Janeway added. "You have sensors. You're well aware of what my ship can do to your fleet. I don't _want _it to come to that, Admiral. Please don't force my hand."

"Very well," the Karnaii admiral said. "We shall hear your first officer. That is all."

"Thank you," Janeway said archly. "We'll beam him over in a few minutes."

The viewscreen flicked back to a view of the Karnaii starbase. Chakotay's eyes met hers. She smiled tightly.

"You know I won't be able to get anywhere," he said gently. "They're not going to call off their strike. They're fanatic about their goals. They're,"

"Just like the Maquis," Janeway said.

Chakotay's eyebrow rose and a shadow flickered over his face. Janeway sighed; he'd taken it the wrong way. She fumbled to cover. "You believed in what you did then. Completely. Utterly. That's what I meant."

"Of course," Chakotay said, but his eyes spoke a different answer.

"I'm not trying to stop the war, but it would be nice if we could slow them down. Just buy some time for Tuvok. There _are Vor'moch _officers on board that starbase, and I mean to get them. Mr. Tuvok?"

"I have been attempting to override their shielding as we speak."

Janeway grinned. "Once you find them, can we beam them aboard?"

Kim glanced over at Tuvok's console. "Probably," he said. "We won't know for sure until we're in, but the modulation looks pretty basic."

"Good. Chakotay, ask for a list of their grievances. Get him talking about how evil the Latarrans are. That ought to give them something to pontificate about. Get his self-righteousness going."

Chakotay raised an eyebrow. "Just like the Maquis," he said wryly.

* * *

"They are coming aboard. We must find a way to hide you," Srask said.

The Karnaii engineer looked frightened. A ship that huge didn't come calling every day. _Voyager _could destroy the starbase in short order if it wanted to. All the same, its presence was much more of a problem for Megan Crowley then it was for Srask. _Voyager _hadn't come here for a cup of tea. It was safe to figure they'd find the shuttle.

The engineering team she'd brought over were all looking to her for guidance. Kinsey was heading down from his meeting with the admiral, knowing that his counterpart from _Voyager _would soon be taking his place.

"All right, everyone keep your heads," she said. Did _Voyager _know they were here? That was the question. She tapped her combadge. "Crowley to Kinsey."

A moment later , he answered. "Go ahead. I know about _Voyager." _

"Right," she said uncertainly.

"I'll be down in a minute. The turbolift is slow. Is everyone with you?"

She glanced around. Yes, everyone was here. It occurred to her she'd taken all Starfleet personnel this time. She didn't always; it had just been a random fluke. Too bad; Klingons were better fighters in the clutch.

"Is the cloaking device on the shuttle functional?" Kinsey asked.

"Yes, sir. But it's a bit crook. Once we take off it'll take a few minutes to cloak. We'd be vulnerable."

He paused for a moment. "We'll have to take the chance. Go. I'll meet up with you there."

Crowley nodded and turned to her engineers. "All right. Let's go."

Srask grabbed her arm. She tensed. His dark little eyes fixed her for a moment.

"I suspect I will not see you again, Lieutenant Crowley," he said. His voice was calm but full of feeling. "On behalf of my people...thank you. You've brought an end to a century of oppression. We will see you safely to your shuttle and guard you while you escape."

She smiled. What they'd done already had bothered her conscience. It felt good to know it had done some good. The Karnaii were battlers; they would at least have their colony back, and the Latarrans would have to learn to leave them alone if they didn't want a punch in the nose.

"You're welcome, mate," she said. Then she looked over at her engineers. All the Karnaii gratitude in the universe wouldn't mean much if _Voyager _found them. "Let's bail, people. Commander Kinsey will meet us in the shuttle. We'll need to power up and _move._"

Six Starfleet engineers and an equal number of Karnaii engineers set out from the shuttlebay to the docking port where their shuttle sat. They ran quickly, not wasting time. Every minute that went by was another minute that _Voyager _had to find them. That wasn't a chance they wanted to take. The turbolift was old and small; it groaned in protest when they all piled in. Everyone was packed in like sardines, but they'd just have to get a little friendly.

The docking port was not too far. Crowley urged her people through the port into the shuttle itself. The shuttle was one they'd salvaged from _Holden. _It was a good thing they'd retrofitted it with a cloaking device. Idly it occurred to her that the Karnaii might get shirty if they saw it; it was better than what they had. It hardly mattered now.

"Mike, Pete, disconnect the engine coils and be ready to connect them back up on my mark," she directed hurriedly. "Eva, bring the core up to eighty percent. Paul, I want you to manually start the ion manifold on the cloaking device. We're going to be leaving in a hurry."

Her engineers scurried to obey her orders. It didn't take long. Srask leaned in through the hatchway, looking into the shuttle without actually stepping inside. His long, thin face was tight with tension. She could feel her nerves thrumming for what seemed like hours. Where was Kinsey? When the powerplant came to life behind her, she let out a small screech and jumped.

Even cutting a few corners and doing a few things manually, it would take three minutes before the shuttle would be fully cloaked. One hundred eighty seconds, and each one would feel like an eternity. She stared at the console and bit her lip. Where the bloody hell was Commander Kinsey?

She glanced over at a viewscreen, watching _Voyager _hover in front of the Karnaii starbase. They weren't doing anything right now, and she didn't dare turn on active sensors. Kinsey appeared in the hallway, sprinting towards the ship as fast as he could make it. That brought a sigh of relief. At least they'd be able to get out of here.

"G'day, sir," she said. "Glad you made it."

He chuckled. "Belay it, Crowley," he growled, although a grin threatened to break his stern expression. The door hummed closed behind him, and she could hear the metallic clanks as Srask and his engineers disconnected the docking equipment. There was a louder _clack-clank _that she could feel as well as hear; it made the entire ship shudder. Then the numbers on the nav computer began to slowly tick up and down. The shuttle was free.

"We're clear," Crowley said. "Peter, Mike, give me those engine coils."

"Set a course away from _Voyager. _Prepare to raise cloak as soon as we're far enough away from the starbase." Kinsey was businesslike and cool, staring at the screen. Was he as nervous as she was? He ought to be. If he was, she couldn't see it. He was probably trying to set an example for the crew.

"Shields?" Crowley asked, trying to sneak the shuttle around on a trajectory that would keep it away from _Voyager. _

"No. I want all available power to the cloaking device."

It made sense, she thought. They had a shuttle; the other guys had an _Intrepid-_class cruiser. They'd get stomped into the dirt in a fight. Better to hide and slide away.

"We're one hundred meters from the starbase," someone said behind her.

"Good," Kinsey said. "Raise cloak."

"Raising cloak," she replied. "Three minutes until we're fully cloaked."

As Srask had promised, several Karnaii ships began to follow the shuttle, shielding it from _Voyager. _That was a comforting sight. Crowley leaned her head back momentarily and sighed. They might get out of this yet.

* * *

"They're moving! Follow them!" Janeway said, her eyes tracking the viewscreen.

The shuttle had come to life just after Chakotay had beamed over to the Karnaii starbase. Now frustration clenched her. Two minutes earlier and she could have just ordered Chakotay back to the bridge. Now they would have to trace the steps of the political dance.

On the viewscreen, the shuttle began to blur slowly. At first, it seemed merely a resolution issue of the sensors. It became hard to read the words printed on the shuttle. Then the lines of the shuttle itself began to blur and hide.

"The shuttle appears to be cloaking," Tuvok said.

_I can **see **that, _she thought. "Hail them," she directed. A moment later, the _tweep-weep _of an opened channel sounded from behind her.

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager,_" she said sternly. "Federation shuttle, you are operating an illegal cloaking device. Power down and prepare to be boarded."

The shuttle did not comply . It continued moving away from them, and the cloaking cycle didn't power down. She frowned. Odd that it took so long to cloak. Well, it had probably been improvised.

"Target their power systems," she said.

Before her crew could comply with her orders, several Karnaii raiders slid smoothly into place, between the saucer section of _Voyager _and the shuttle. They did not have visual contact anymore, but the sensors could still track the shuttle.

"Karnaii ships are moving to block our fire," Tuvok said.

Janeway swore under her breath. She could see where this was going. Sending Chakotay had been a mistake. He had been right; she wanted to accomplish two goals – stopping the _Vor'moch _and convincing the Karnaii and the Latarrans to settle their differences peaceably. Now the one had gotten in the way of the other. "Maintain weapons lock," she directed. "Prepare to fire on my mark. Raise shields. Harry, see if you can beam Chakotay off the Karnaii starbase."

When Chakotay was off the ship, Tuvok was the acting first officer. What he said was exactly what Chakotay would have said, except in different words. She tensed as soon as the Vulcan spoke.

"Captain Janeway, I must remind you: we are in Karnaii space and first-contact procedures still do apply. Starfleet regulations are clear: in this situation, we may not open fire on Karnaii vessels."

She tensed. "Acknowledged, Mr. Tuvok. Mr. Paris, try to bring us around to get a clear shot at the shuttle. Mr. Kim, where's that transporter lock?"

A hail came in from the Karnaii starbase. Rhoden stared at her from the viewscreen.

"Captain Janeway, this act of hostility will not be tolerated," Rhoden said. His tone was simple and dangerous.

"All I want is that shuttle. That's a Starfleet shuttle, and I am their superior officer," she replied. "Withdraw your ships and everything will be fine."

The admiral made a sound of contempt. "No. Those are our allies. _You _withdraw."

Janeway stared at the screen with hard eyes. "I can't do that," she said. "Move your ships and this can go smoothly."

"No," the admiral said, and cut contact.

Behind her, Kim spoke up glumly. "We're losing that shuttle. Sensors can barely pick it up." He adjusted something on his console. "I've got Chakotay back," he added, glad to have some good news to report.

She took a deep breath. Chakotay bounded onto the bridge a few moments later, just before she could gather her nerve.

"Captain," he said tightly. "That was the quickest diplomatic mission I've ever done. What are you doing? This is their starbase, their space. We can't shoot them just for being rude."

Tuvok added to the pressure: "Captain, the starbase has powered up its weapons. Twenty-three Karnaii ships are powering weapons as well."

"Can we reach that shuttle before it cloaks?" she asked heatedly.

Tuvok took just a few seconds to answer. "In order to fire on the shuttle before it cloaks, we will need to disable at least two Karnaii ships. Perhaps three. And I must advise that not only would that be a violation of first-contact protocols, but with the armada currently facing us, it would be tactically unsound."

When she spoke, her tone was sharper than usual. "If I give you an order to fire, Mr. Tuvok, are you going to obey it or are you going to quote me the rulebook?"

Tuvok was silent for another few moments, which angered her further. Couldn't he see the shuttle slowly vanishing before their eyes? Didn't he know what that meant?

"I will comply with your orders, Captain," Tuvok said guardedly, and thankfully did not say anything more.

Two choices hung on her like a weighty pendulum.

Let the shuttle escape, and with it her best chance of preventing _Vor'moch _from carrying out its attack. Those officers would know what and where and how – and _why. _They would tell her, if she could only get them in custody.

Or, fire on the Karnaii ships, violating untold Starfleet rules in the process. She could end up court-martialled herself over something like this. _Voyager _would have no chance at all of crafting a diplomatic settlement. She was confident that _Voyager _could win a fight easily against a single Karnaii vessel. Against twenty-three and a starbase, the odds were a lot iffier. And how many of those ships had the new Klingon-based weapons? If the Karnaii destroyed or disabled _Voyager _here, _Vor'moch c_ould continue its interference unchecked.

No matter what she did, one of her goals would be forever unattainable.

Thousands, perhaps millions, of lives, Karnaii and Latarran alike, might hang in the balance of whether the next words out of her mouth were _Fire _or _Stand down. _

The shuttle was now just a faint ghost, completely translucent. A few more seconds and they would lose it entirely.

"Captain!" Chakotay said.

Fire or stand down. Let them get away or risk everything. But letting them get away was a risk, too: a risk that would be paid by the colonists at Salim Ru, if she was wrong. And eventually that risk would be paid for by the vicious bloody tit-for-tat that would consume this part of space. No matter what, she had to make a decision.

Captain Kathryn Janeway pulled herself up to her full height, took a deep breath, made her decision, and gave her order.


	10. Conflict

_Author's note: _

_This has taken a while; Isabelle and her older brother tend to take up time. Meet Angry Janeway; we've seen her before. _

_Now for the responses: _

_Libertymaquis: Thank you. I'm glad you like the story. We'll see if this is the one you expected. _

_H-bomb: Yeah, I guess it is reminscent of that, although not intentionally. _

_Worker72: Well, that's one way it could have gone. But it didn't. As far as a cloaking device goes, I recall that the Romulans gave the Defiant the one it had. _

_JadziaKathryn: Yeah, Chakotay was not too happy. Here's your explanation. _

_Saavik: Yes, me and my cliffies. Here's where you find out. _

_Marshpusey: Thanks, this is based off the Equinox ideas. The other fic I wrote was 'Prodigal Daughter' which featured Marla Gilmore of the Equinox. _

_Lady of Nightmares: Glad you like it. Here's another chapter. _

_Voyager _rocked and reeled. The Karnaii barrage was savage and unforgiving. She'd given the order to fire, and shields had barely gone up before losing forty percent of their strength. She'd have to give the Karnaii one thing: when they fought, they meant it.

The lights had dimmed on the bridge. Red lights pulsed. None of the Karnaii ships could have been a match for _Voyager _on a one-to-one basis. But this wasn't a one-to-one basis; there were twenty-odd ships all shooting at the one _Intrepid-_class ship, and about two-thirds of them had Klingon-style disruptors. Size was not always an advantage. Even with Tom Paris's skilled hands on the helm, _Voyager _couldn't make evasive maneuvers before the smaller, more nimble Karnaii ships moved back into position. _Voyager _was a big, fat target for them to shoot at, and it seemed their targeting systems were not flawed. Meanwhile, she was trying to minimize shooting at them. Things were badly bent, but not yet broken. Alarms wailed overhead. Computers beeped incessantly. It made it damned hard to think.

"Do we have a clear shot at the shuttle?" Janeway shouted over the din.

Tuvok's face might as well have been carved from granite. "We must disable one more Karnaii vessel."

"Do it," Janeway ordered. The shuttle was almost completely gone now. A phaser beam leaped out from _Voyager _and struck a Karnaii vessel, which began to list and reel in space. Once again, they had visual contact with the shuttle – for what that was worth.

Another blast. "Our fore shield is down to twenty-six percent," Kim warned.

"Target the shuttle and fire!" Janeway insisted, standing tall on her bridge. She hadn't wanted it this way. She would have given anything for things to go differently. But under no circumstances could she allow people who wore the same uniform she did to carry out another atrocity like that on Spanos. That uniform stood for exploration, science, peace. She would not brook such a betrayal of it. That took precedence over _everything. _

The shuttle faded entirely from view a split second before the phaser struck home. Janeway felt her stomach tighten. Had this all been for naught?

Then, after a few scant seconds that passed like eternities, the shuttle came back into sharp focus. Its engines went dark and it began to keel over, floating helplessly. One nacelle flickered back on and went dark a second later. She grinned tightly.

"Get us in close enough to beam the shuttle crew off," she ordered. "Get a tractor beam on the shuttle, if you can. We could use an extra shuttle."

Tension was palpable on the bridge as her crew obeyed her orders. Paris had his hands full trying to guide the ship towards the shuttle through a sea of hostile raiders. Disapproval radiated from Tuvok's station. Next to her, Chakotay seemed troubled, staring at the Karnaii ships as if pained.

"I have a transporter lock," Kim announced. "They're trying to raise shields...," his console beeped and booped as his fingers flew over the keys. "I've got them."

"Security to Transporter Room One," Chakotay said, sounding strangled and troubled. Janeway glanced over at him. What was going on behind that tattooed brow? The order made perfect sense; the renegade officers would not be too happy to be on board.

"Can we get the shuttle?" she asked.

"Karnaii vessels are moving to intercept," Kim replied. "I can't get a tractor beam on it."

Another explosion rocked the ship. The cannons on the starbase fired some sort of pulse at them. It wasn't modern, but it was powerful.

"Shields are down to twenty percent," Tuvok said icily.

Janeway exhaled through her teeth. She didn't want them to have the shuttle, but she didn't want to lose her own ship over it, either. She had the criminals in custody; that would have to do.

"Turn us about," she said. "Set a course for Latarran space. Warp nine."

Paris acknowledged the order, and _Voyager _wheeled, leaving its smaller tormentors behind. The Karnaii raiders attempted to pursue them, but superior technology won the day; they just couldn't keep up. Leaving the shuttle behind nagged at her, but this could not become a vendetta.

When the last raider had disappeared to a mere sensor echo, she sighed. "Send a message to the Karnaii," she directed. "Advise them that we apologize for this, but it was necessary to arrest those who had violated Starfleet law. If they like, we will supply engineers to repair damage to any Karnaii vessel." It was a small olive branch, but still an olive branch.

No one spoke for a moment.

"This isn't a vendetta," she said irritably. "I'll be in my readyroom. Mr. Tuvok, I'll want status reports on interrogating the prisoners. Mr. Kim, I want to know damage reports and time to repair. Mr. Chakotay, you have the conn."

She retired to her readyroom, feeling the eyes of her bridge crew on her back. How could they _not _understand? Crimes like Spanos could _not _be allowed to continue. This was a classic example of why they _had _a Prime Directive.

The damage to the ship was not serious, just extensive. Within an hour or two, everything was repaired. She could still sense tension in the air whenever anyone came into her readyroom. Kim seemed skittish, unnerved by seeing the senior officers like this. Paris and Torres did their jobs and kept their feelings to themselves.

The doorchime buzzed. "Come," she said shortly.

Tuvok entered, looking impassive and reserved.

"Captain," he said coolly. "We have interrogated the shuttle crew. They are currently confined to quarters on deck nine. They have not provided much in the way of useful information. Commander Kinsey has ordered them not to speak."

"Hmm." Janeway leaned back and pulled at her coffee, hoping for some comfort. "If he can pull rank, so can I. Pull the two officers out of there and put them in separate rooms. Alone. We'll bring Kinsey to the briefing room after letting him cool his heels for a while. Commander Chakotay and I will speak with him there. After that, I want Crowley."

"Very well." Tuvok pulled himself up and took a breath. He stood at letter-perfect Academy attention. "I also wish to inform you that I strongly protest your decision to fire on the Karnaii. I will be filing a report when hostilities have ceased. That was a clear violation of first-contact protocols."

Janeway sighed. "So is launching a weapon of mass destruction against a people who have never offered the Federation anything but friendliness," she said, just as icily. "So is handing over advanced weapons to a ruthless people."

"Merely because the Starfleet officers aboard the _Vor'moch _have violated Starfleet law does not entitle us to do the same."

"They're planning to do it again. I intend to stop them," she said icily. "The Karnaii were attempting to prevent us from arresting people we have every right to arrest. I had no choice but to open fire."

"We were in their space," Tuvok noted. "Starfleet's first-contact protocols are not optional. As a Starfleet officer, I am obligated to report this breach."

Anger twisted her. Hadn't he been on Spanos? Hadn't he seen firsthand what ignoring the Prime Directive brought? She would not allow that to continue. Not so long as her ship was capable of stopping it. As for the greater war between the Karnaii and the Latarrans – she would find a way.

"Do as you see fit, Mr. Tuvok," she said. For a moment she thought of reminding Tuvok of how many times other officers had complained of his narrowness, or how he had served in Starfleet longer than she had been alive and yet had still been a lieutenant when posted to _Voyager. _It would be satisfying, but it wouldn't help any. "Send Chakotay in here and take the conn. Dismissed."

Tuvok turned and left without a word. A few moments later, Chakotay replaced him. He looked haunted and troubled.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "We're going to speak with Commander Kinsey about the actions of his crew."

He nodded. "Between you and me, he may have questions for our crew," he said cautiously.

Janeway let out a sigh. "I already got an earful from Tuvok," she said archly. "Don't _you_ start."

"Tuvok probably started in about the rules," Chakotay said. "The rules don't bother me. That doesn't mean I don't agree with Tuvok, though. Why did we need to fire on them? What was so vital?"

Janeway's lips twisted. "Stopping the _Vor'moch_," she said. "Preventing another strike."

"We haven't done that," he pointed out. "We've got their XO, their chief engineer, and a bunch of engineers. _Vor'moch _can still launch without them."

"It's a start," she maintained. "It's more than we had. It was a judgment call and I made it."

Chakotay sighed. "Well," he said, "I think you made a mistake. The Karnaii didn't trust you when I went aboard, and they hate our guts now. You don't understand these people. Even when I was aboard, I saw...they're fanatical. They hate the Latarrans. Now they hate us. They're defending themselves against a bigger, brutal oppressor. What does it matter if you stop _Vor'moch _if the Karnaii just carry out the strike themselves?"

Janeway slammed her fist on the table. "It means Starfleet is clean," she said. "We'll find some way to get the Karnaii and the Latarrans to the table. We'll think of something. But first we're going to keep our own house in order."

Chakotay sighed. She could see it across the planes of his face just as plain as day: _you can't do both, firing on the Karnaii made it easy to do the one but impossible to do the other. _It didn't matter. She would _find _a way, somehow. She was the captain of this ship and she would find a way.

"Now," she continued. "I want you there with me to question Kinsey. I want to know what he knows."

Chakotay nodded. She could see him sealing his emotions away behind a blank mask. She rose and put her coffee mug down, wordlessly indicating that he was to follow. They proceeded down to the briefing room and took their seats. After that, it took only a few minutes for Kinsey to be brought in.

She sat at the head of the table, Chakotay by her side. Kinsey was seated at the far end of the table. He had no combadge or weapons. His face was implacable, and with the long hair and goatee he looked only faintly Starfleet. An armed security guard stood by the door, with his weapon at port arms.

"Commander Kinsey," Janeway said icily.

"Captain Janeway," he returned.

"You know why you're here," she said. "You and your crew have given technology to the Karnaii in violation of the Prime Directive. You have also engaged in an illegal and horrific attack against the Latarran colony of Spanos. I also know you are planning another attack on the colony of Salim Ru."

Kinsey did not speak for a few moments. His eyes burned at her above the bristles of his beard.

"Anything to say for yourself?" Janeway prompted.

Kinsey smiled coolly. "It's relatively simple," he said. "The Karnaii are our allies. Just as the Latarrans are yours. We did what we had to do."

"I've seen what you've done," she snapped. "I want to know about the weapon used on Spanos. And I want the location and tactical status of _Vor'moch._"

He chuckled. "I've seen what _you've _done, too...Captain."

That nettled her. Did everyone under her talk back? This was just too much.

"Why?" she snapped. "At least tell me that. Why did you do this for them? You didn't just give them the weapon. You developed it, and you tested it on Spanos, and now you're going to use it on Salim Ru. Why?"

Kinsey sighed. He looked from Janeway to Chakotay and back again, clearly taking the measure of the situation and deciding his chances. Ultimately, his decision was to answer. His voice was soft and calm, as if discussing a routine diplomatic mission instead of a war crime.

"It started off as just a straightforward trade," he said. "When we came into this part of space, we were low on food and needed dilithium ore. The Karnaii were the first species we met. They didn't have much. The Latarrans keep them on the most undesirable planets; planets where it's hard to survive. But they were willing to trade with us."

"They were freedom fighters. Warriors, in other words. Koth respected them for that. They were determined to do whatever they had to do in order to win. They're not exactly the same as Klingons – but, after all, there's nothing more honorable than victory."

"Koth decided to ally us with the Karnaii. We gave them some old cloaking technology, better shields, and disruptors. They gave us dilithium and food. We felt good about it." His steel gray eyes scanned hers, not backing down an inch, not ashamed. "We were helping an oppressed people strike back against their tormentors. But then...,"

Kinsey looked up and a faint smile crossed his bearded face. "Then, they had a trick up their sleeve. Something we never would have expected they would have. And once they showed it to us, we decided to ally ourselves further to them."

"And what was that?" Janeway asked, her tone icy.

"A way home," Kinsey said, and fell silent for a moment.

Janeway closed her eyes. "This small, unsophisticated race has a way to the Alpha Quadrant?" Sarcasm dripped from her tone. If that had been the case, the Karnaii would have made contact with the Federation long ago.

"Beta, actually," Kinsey corrected. "A wormhole. Deep in Karnaii space. Don't bother asking for the location, captain. You'd never make it there. The Karnaii will never let _Voyager _get that far in. They'd use kamikaze attacks on _Voyager _if they had to. They showed us the readings. The wormhole isn't stable, so they'd have to help us stabilize it...but they're good at making the most of what they've got, and Crowley's pulled miracles for us before. The wormhole's terminal end fluctuates; it seems to be connected to other wormholes, almost like a train station. Sometimes it ends up nowhere we've heard of. Sometimes it ends up back in Kazon space. But sometimes...well, we saw Klingon signals coming through the wormhole. It's out in the middle of nowhere in the Klingon Empire, so to speak. Koth recognized the names – just a couple of podunk Klingon colony worlds far away from the centers of the Empire. The Klingons wouldn't have noticed it because it isn't close enough to any of their big populated worlds to be interesting. But once we go through...instead of thirty years to get back home, we'd be able to make Qo'nos in a few weeks."

Janeway narrowed her eyes. Yes, now it made sense. A way home; the one thing that both the Klingon and Starfleet crews of the _Vor'moch _would want more than anything. All the same, it explained, but did not excuse.

"All we had to do was carry the banner," Kinsey continued. "All they wanted us to do was clear the way for them – deploy the test at Spanos, and then deploy against Salim Ru. They had five ships held back from the invasion fleet, just to help us stabilize the wormhole. Koth has tried so hard...he's a fine warrior and a fine man. But he's tired of slogging across this quadrant. And so am I."

"Koth is not a Starfleet officer," Janeway replied. "_You _are. And you should know that you've violated everything we stand for."

Kinsey did not appear repentant. "Koth is my captain," he said. His eyes flicked over to Chakotay. "I support him with the crew. That's what first officers _do. _We stand behind our captains." For the first time, he actually seemed to show some emotion other than mild contempt. "I _had _to back him. I'd made the bargain with him years ago. We've stood together shoulder to shoulder. He's led Klingons and Starfleet alike with no favoritism. How could I not stand behind him?"

_Oh, really? Perhaps you could tell my first officer that. He seems to question everything I do. _

"Koth is not your captain," Janeway said. "Koth is a Klingon officer. What he does is his business – though I intend to stop him. But don't you _dare _hide behind him, Commander. Starfleet regulations are clear. _You _are the acting commanding officer of the survivors of _USS Holden. _Not Koth. You." She shook her head. "Except now, I am. I'm taking your crew into custody, and you are hereby relieved of your command."

Kinsey jerked in his chair. "You can't do that," he protested.

"Yes, I can," Janeway overrode him. "You're a commander. I'm a captain. It's as simple as that." Her eyes bored into him. "I'm giving you a direct order. I want the location of the _Vor'moch. _I want it now. Along with any command codes you may have."

Distance flooded back into his eyes, and he leaned back and shook his head slowly.

"Don't make me angry, Commander," she said with a knife edge in her voice.

"It's too late for that, isn't it?" Kinsey smiled coolly. "No, Captain."

"Commander," she said warningly, and stood. Kinsey watched her calmly, mindful of the armed security officer at the door. He did not move. She strode over to him and glared at him.

"I'm not joking," she said. "Think of those people under you."

He shrugged. "My officers know the meaning of honor. _jIjatlhpa' jatlh Homvey." _He gave her a moment of sardonic silence before graciously translating the sentence: "The stars will talk before I will."

Janeway's eyes searched his, scanning across them. He seemed oddly serene. He'd made his decision. It was maddening. How dare he? It was _mutiny._ Was there anything she could do to stop him?

For a moment, Janeway thought of Captain Archer, captain of the first Enterprise. He had once written about throwing a prisoner in an airlock to interrogate him. It was required reading in Command School. At the time, she'd thought he was horrid, betraying Federation principles over a database.

Now, however, she understood with frightening clarity why he'd done it. What she didn't understand now was why he'd felt so guilty about it. Her first urge, primal and strong, was to drag Kinsey down to the cargo bay and have a little historical re-enactment.

Chakotay would whine about it, and so would Tuvok; they had lost their nerve somehow. All the same, Janeway didn't need to resort to that step yet. If Kinsey had forgotten he was a Starfleet officer, perhaps Crowley would be more tractable.

She gestured at the security officer. "Take Commander Kinsey to the brig," she directed. "Solitary confinement. No visitors. No replicator privileges. Nothing, until he decides to make a statement." She held a moment before smiling coolly. "And make him get a haircut."

The security officer nodded and gestured outside the door. Another one joined him. The two security officers escorted Kinsey from the room silently. He went along without complaint, realizing that they were quite ready to fire.

There was a moment of silence in the room. Then Chakotay spoke.

"Are you trying to stop _Vor'moch? _Because that was a fiasco."

She rounded on him, eyes blazing. "What now? Should I have given him a cookie?" Her voice dripped with contempt.

"If you want to stand up and prove your moral superiority and outrage, then you did fine," Chakotay said nonchalantly. "If you want to get useful information, you can't stand there and denounce people like that. You have to win their trust, build some rapport. You have to give them a reason to talk. Give them a way out. If you come down on them like a ton of bricks, they're going to freeze up."

She stared hard at him and shook her head in mild amazement. "I can't believe what I'm hearing," she said in wonder. "Tell me, Mr. Chakotay. When did being a Starfleet officer become so meaningless? When did it become such common practice to coddle murderers?"

The look on Chakotay's face was grave, as if he believed _she _was the threat. "When they have something you want to know, then it behooves you to soften up a little."

"I see," she said archly. "Well, we'll do it your way. We'll just all have coffee and donuts and have some small talk while the rest of the _Vor'moch _crew commits another war crime. Are you blind? There isn't _time_ for..._social__ niceties." _

"Just listen to me," Chakotay said. "Work with me a little. I understand what you want, but you're going about it totally the wrong way. You're trying to steamroller everybody. You can't _force _what you want. Just let me try questioning Crowley."

"Fine," Janeway said icily.

"Standard good-cop, bad-cop. I'll start off. You come in and just help keep the pressure up."

She watched him carefully. When had he become such a weak sister? She might have to find herself someone with a little more backbone if this kept up.

"Fine," she repeated. "We'll try it your way. _This _time."

"How about you go into the next room and let me get things started? We can put everything on the screen. You'd see and hear everything. Then, when the time is right, you come in."

She shrugged. He really didn't understand, she realized. He didn't think of those colonists on Spanos, screaming and dying. It didn't bother him that _Starfleet _officers had done this. That was just a factor to him.

That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Starfleet kept its own house clean. _Nothing _took precedence over that. The _Vor'moch _had Starfleet officers. Those Starfleet officers had committed a crime. Come hell or high water, she was going to stop them.

It didn't take too long to set things up his way, though. She parked herself in a small room near the briefing room. There was no way anyone could tell if they were being monitored or not. She had a good view of the screen, and she sat and watched and stewed.

She could hear Chakotay through the intercom. Now here was Security bringing Crowley into the room. The Australian engineer looked the way Janeway wanted her to look: thoughtful and frightened.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," Chakotay said. "Sit down."

"Sir," Crowley said thinly.

"You know why you're here," Chakotay began. "We know about the technology you gave the Karnaii. We know about the cloaking technology, and we know about the weapon you used against the colony at Spanos."

Janeway watched the screen carefully. Crowley shifted uncomfortably in her chair and said nothing. Chakotay raised a hand and appeared sympathetic.

"Commander Kinsey has been relieved of duty and confined to the brig," Chakotay continued. "When all this is over, we're going to charge him and court-martial him. You're going to have to face the music, too. Now, I can understand how it is for a junior officer." His tone changed, becoming sympathetic. It irked Janeway.

"You're thousands of light-years from home. You're on a Klingon ship. Your command has adopted Klingon morals, Klingon ways. They give you an order, and you obey it because otherwise it's mutiny. You're caught between a rock and a hard place. But you know...you're just as responsible." He leaned forward.

"I'd like to help you," he said earnestly. "Give me something I can use to help you. Kinsey's in the brig. It's up to you, now. Talk to me, Crowley. Tell me about what happened, and I can go back to the captain and tell her you cooperated. I'll make sure she knows."

Janeway scowled. He was being far nicer than anyone ought to be to someone who had betrayed Starfleet so deeply. She knew what it was; he was giving Crowley a way to cooperate without losing her honor. Part of her didn't want it to work.

"What do you want, sir?" Crowley asked bleakly.

"Tell me about the weapon," he began.

_No, _Janeway thought. _We need the tactical status and location of Vor'moch! _She knew what he was doing: starting her off talking, and then moving to the _Vor'moch. _Knowing it didn't make it any easier. She wanted all tactical information on _Vor'moch _and she wanted it now.

"Err...I didn't design it," Crowley began. "Kormack did. I helped him fit it into a torpedo casing. Klingon ships produce an exotic baryon particle as a waste product. _Vor'moch _produces it too, but...ours is different."

"How so?" Chakotay asked.

"Well," Crowley said, "How's your particle physics, sir?"

That was it. Janeway rose and strode into the briefing room, her arms folded. Crowley turned and glanced at her for a moment before looking away. The look of fright and guilt was pleasing, in an odd and atavistic way.

"I know particle physics," Janeway said, her voice cool and as businesslike as she could make it. "Proceed, Lieutenant."

Crowley swallowed and walked over to the LCARS panel on the wall. Her fingers tapped out a quick staccato on the keys. A moment later, a standard subatomic diagram appeared on the wall. Crowley tapped out a few more keys and the view zoomed in. Janeway's eyes softened a bit – but just a bit. Scientific discovery always interested her; and even now the draw was still there.

"I've never seen a baryon particle like that before," she said.

"Neither had we, captain," Crowley said. "Kormack found a way to isolate them and keep them from decomposing. But when you do...," she tapped out another series. Arcane scientific symbols scrolled across the screen. From the look on his face, Chakotay had no idea what they were. Janeway did.

"A massive radiation burst," she observed.

"Yes," Crowley said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Like nuclear fission, the old nuclear warheads. It's stronger and the radiation dissipates in a few days."

Janeway leaned forward, deliberately glaring at the renegade lieutenant. "And you designed it into a first strike weapon against a society that never did a thing to you."

Crowley paused. "Captain," she said softly, "if only you'd seen how those poor Karnaii battlers are treated...how they have to live...,"

"The colonists on Spanos _won't _live," Janeway snapped, "because of _you._"

The engineer recoiled and bit her lip. Janeway put her hands on her hips and let her eyes blaze. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Chakotay trying to wave her off. She ignored it. A _Vor'moch _officer could expect no better.

"Is there a way to disable the weapon?" Janeway asked. "Or detect it?"

Crowley shook her head. "Not from here," she said.

"Well," Janeway said briskly. "Then we'll need the location of the _Vor'moch, _Lieutenant."

Crowley opened her mouth and closed it, her eyes distant. Loyalties warred on her face. She glanced at Chakotay, then away into the corner.

"Commander Kinsey has been relieved of duty," Chakotay reminded her. "You take orders from us now. You're a Starfleet officer. You wear the same uniform we do. Do the right thing, Lieutenant."

It was harder than she expected to cross her arms and not do anything. The whole thing was infuriating: from Tuvok and Chakotay second-guessing her to Kinsey's smooth defiance to Crowley needing to be pushed. She had to consciously force herself to speak in a less venomous tone.

"Think of the people under you, Lieutenant," she said. "Those engineers, who are looking to you as their leader. They're relying on you."

Looking strained and torn, Crowley put her head in her hands. She muttered something under her breath that Janeway didn't catch. When she spoke, her voice was tight and pained.

"_Vor'moch's _status is green across the board," she said, staring at the table miserably. "Weapons are good, shields are good, and...the baryon warhead is ready for launch. They could have launched already. I don't know, captain."

Janeway nodded slowly. Finally, a little respect and obedience. Was that so much to ask?

"And their location?" she prompted.

Before Crowley could reply, the ship bucked suddenly, as if a giant had slapped it from the bottom. She could both hear and feel the explosion under her feet. Alarms began to wail. Red lights began to pulse from the wall panel. Janeway staggered and grabbed the table to keep from falling. Her combadge twittered, and Harry's voice spoke urgently from it.

"Captain to the bridge! Klingon ship just decloaked off our port bow! They're firing!"

"Red Alert!" Janeway shouted, the words coming on reflex.

"What he said," Crowley added.


	11. Combat Scenes

_Author's note: _

_A few people have mentioned that Janeway seemed extreme in the last chapter. That's because we have access to her thoughts, where we didn't in Equinox. (And here she hasn't tried to kill anyone in a cargo bay – yet.) Basically, this is an attempt to get into Janeway's head from 'Equinox'. _

_Now on to the individual comments: _

_Libertymaquis: Janeway was angry. Couldn't you tell? Glad you liked the differing points of view. _

_Marshpusey. You'd babysit? Do you realize what you're getting into? My son is rather high-energy (he's four) and my daughter...well, she's adorable, but when she is not happy with her situation you know it. _

_H-bomb: Glad you liked the story and the Enterprise reference. It's one of those little things I like to throw in... _

_Worker72: It could have gone either way, but Vengeful Janeway was more fun. So you want to see the Vor'moch succeed and the Karnaii to win, eh? It all depends..._

_Saavik: Yep, Janeway and Chakotay as good-cop bad-cop are fun sometimes..._

_Stoko: Yeah, Janeway was a little hard in that chapter. _

_JadziaKathryn: Glad you like it. _

_And on with the show..._

Karg manned the helm of _Vor'moch _stolidly, as was the Klingon norm. He stared at the Federation ship on the viewscreen with open anger. He could understand their need to oppose _Vor'moch. _The Latarrans were their allies, and they had to act as they deemed honorably. That much was simply to be expected. However, in taking Crowley, they had dishonored him. Such a thing was not to be borne.

To make matters worse, Koth had ordered him to man his post. _Vor'moch _needed its best at the helm. It was nice to know he was the best, but he had wanted to be part of the boarding party. There would be honor there; the stuff of Klingon opera. The bile of the enemy flowing over his hands; the safe return of his intended.

Koth had proved his skill at the captaincy yet again. The first attack, immediately after decloaking, had taken place with disruptors and Klingon photon torpedoes. Afterwards, Koth had ordered the phaser and a round of Starfleet photon torpedoes. The reason was simple: Starfleet computers would recognize _Vor'moch _as a Klingon ship, and would automatically optimize the shields against Klingon weapons. Starfleet weapons would be blocked, but not as much. If it worked, _Vor'moch _would be able to slam two hard punches home before _Voyager _got off its first shot.

Had it? He thought it had. The first shot was always the easiest. _Voyager _hadn't seemed to know they were there. A round of torpedoes into the warp nacelles, a disruptor blast. It seemed to have done some damage. It also would have given _Voyager's _captain something to think about while the boarding party beamed aboard.

For now, he had to pilot the ship and evade fire. The two ships were pretty evenly matched, from what he had learned, and their helmsman was no slouch. He respected Paris's skills, but his own were not to be dismissed.

The intercom crackled behind him. "Boarding team away," a gruff voice said.

His duty was clear, even if his heart was elsewhere. He would need to sneak in close enough for them to transport back. As the best helmsman, the honor fell to him.

All the same, he would have rather been on the boarding party. There would be combat, honor, the bile of the enemy flowing over his hands.

Karg corrected course and spiraled away from the Federation ship, already plotting a vector to get back to it.

* * *

Barkovitch recovered as quickly as he could after materializing on the deck. He glanced behind him. His team was all there. Only two others were Starfleet officers; the rest were Klingons. _Vor'moch _would need the best warriors for this part of the battle. He was proud to be in that number. 

It took only a moment to look around. This was a crew-quarters deck, and wasn't as busy as Engineering or the bridge might have been. It was a good place to start. Their orders were clear enough. Find and rescue the captive crewmen, then either capture a transporter room or contact _Vor'moch _for beam-out.

Red lights pulsed along the wall panels. A few crewmen ran past him. The Klingons had ducked back into a vacant crew cabin, and nobody noticed them immediately. They were busy going to battle stations.

Was the computer locked out? He wasn't sure. Better not to give away their position. He reached out for a dark-haired fellow who seemed particularly nervous. The guy gave him a wide-eyed, puzzled glance. Moving quickly, Barkovitch grabbed his arm, threw a knee into his stomach, and shoved him backwards into the stateroom the Klingons had ducked into. The guy let out a muffled groan, but before he could move the Klingons had him covered and pinned to the floor.

Barkovitch stepped back in and closed the door. He grinned down at the _Voyager _crewman.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

The dark-haired man cowered. Barkovitch felt disgusted. Didn't he have any honor?

"Telfer," the man sniffed. "Billy Telfer."

"Well," Barkovitch said, "you're going to help me out a little, Billy Telfer."

Wide eyes stared at him imploringly. Barkovitch shook his head. Soft and weak. Had he _ever _been like that? It was nauseating.

"I can't," Telfer said.

Barkovitch smiled coolly. "All right," he said, and nodded to the Klingon holding him down. "Kill him."

"Waaaaaiiiit!" Telfer's voice hit a high, hysterical note. "I...I don't want to die...please...,"

"I want to know where the_Vor'moch _crew are," Barkovitch said. "So ask the computer for me. Otherwise, we'll kill you and find someone else. It's really that simple."

To underscore the threat, he took the disruptor and put the barrel between Telfer's eyes. Another terrorized, pleading look was his reward.

"All right," Telfer said. "Please, please don't kill me." He sniffled, and a tear ran down one cheek. "Computer, locate _Vor'moch _crew."

_Blooop-palurp._ "_Vor'moch _prisoners are in different locations," it said serenely.

Barkovitch sighed. Telfer let out a sob. "Commander Kinsey," Barkovitch said dangerously.

"Computer, locate Commander Kinsey," Telfer repeated obediently.

"Commander Kinsey is in the brig."

"Locate Lieutenant Crowley."

"Lieutenant Crowley is in turbolift two under security escort."

Continuing down the line indicated all the rest of _Vor'moch's _crew on this ship were all together, in a crew quarters just down the hall. With a little bit of luck, that's where _Voyager's _people were taking Crowley. Then he would just have to get Kinsey out of the brig.

Barkovitch holstered his disruptor and entered the hall again. He poked his head around a bend. There they were: two security guards with phaser rifles standing at a door. That's where his people would be. At the far end of the hall, the turbolift opened. He paused.

Megan Crowley stepped out of the turbolift, her hands cuffed in front of her. She was flanked by two more security guards, also armed with phaser rifles. That was convenient for him. Her eyes flicked over his, but she didn't react. Good. She'd learned the ways of the warrior, too. It took only a few seconds to summon the Klingons to his side and get ready. They left Telfer trussed up under the bed in the cabin. He would not be an issue; this battle would not take too long.

Barkovitch took a deep breath and pressed his back against the wall, his disruptor up and pointed at the ceiling. He waved at his warriors. "Fire at will!" he hissed, and flipped around to do just that himself.

The Klingons were silent as machines as they dove around the bend in the corridor to open fire. Crowley, well accustomed to combat, did exactly what he wanted her to: she dove for the floor. That left him plenty of space in which to fire on the security officers. They got a few shots off in return, but not enough. In the space of a few short breaths, all four had been dropped. Barkovitch sprinted through to them and grabbed Crowley, helping her off the floor.

"Bahkovitch," she said pleasantly. "Good to see you, mate."

"Status," he said quickly.

"All my engineers are in there," she said, gesturing. "Kinsey's in the brig."

"I know," he said quickly, and recovered the keys to the handcuffs from one of the guards to unlock her. He had to be careful there; he didn't want any problems with Karg when they got back to the ship. Crowley didn't seem concerned; she simply let him take them off her and then grabbed a phaser rifle.

"Get your people out," he said quickly. He turned to his own people. "If you've got extra weapons, let's share 'em out."

Crowley shouldered the phaser rifle before opening the door to free her engineers. Barkovitch grabbed up the remaining weapons. He did a quick count. Four phaser rifles, minus the one Crowley had taken. Four phasers. Everyone would be armed.

"All right," he said confidently. "Everyone grab a weapon. Follow orders, fire on my command. We're going home."

He turned to Crowley.

"We need to get Kinsey and then get off this ship," he said. "_Vor'moch _will swing in to transport us, but we have to figure out how to lower their shields."

Crowley nodded. "Engineering is on the next deck down," she said matter-of-factly. "Can your boys take it and hold it?"

Barkovitch smiled and turned to his warriors. "Can we?"

The roar of assent warmed his heart.

* * *

Chakotay bounded onto the bridge a minute after his captain. Things weren't good. Kathryn had become fixated on the _Vor'moch. _He understood intellectually why; the idea that Starfleet officers would be so cavalier with the Prime Directive and everything it stood for would deeply offend her. But she seemed to be losing track of everything else.

It hadn't been so simple for him. He understood what had happened; according to Starfleet regulations, it was as clear-cut as Kathryn was making it out to be. In the real world, however, it wasn't so easy. His resignation from Starfleet and his subsequent time in the Maquis had given him a different perspective. The Karnaii might be ruthless fighters, but they had equally ruthless Alpha Quadrant counterparts in the Maquis. Some were men like Michael Eddington; men who ordered pre-emptive attacks with biogenic weapons against Cardassian colonies. Some were men like Lon Suder, who had simply been looking for an opportunity to kill. He hadn't liked it, but he'd gone along with it for the greater good of fighting Cardassian oppression.

He knew her too well, he thought. She was fixated on _Vor'moch, _but she also wanted to put an end to the larger war between the Latarrans and the Karnaii. That wasn't a _bad _thing to want. It was very her; always trying to assemble a just order from chaos. The problem was that someone with two goals must inevitably decide that one is more important, and 'stop the _Vor'moch_' had clearly won the day.

Now, though, his options were a lot simpler. You couldn't explain about nuance and root causes when there was a Klingon cruiser firing at you. Whether he agreed with her or not, they had to work together to protect _Voyager. _

"Status," Janeway said, taking her seat.

"Shields are stable at seventy-three percent," Kim reported instantly. "They did some damage to the engines with that first hit. Damage report is underway."

If Tuvok was mad at his captain, it didn't show. "Reading multiple transporter signatures...intruder alert on deck eleven."

"Dispatch security," Janeway said.

"Already dispatched...phaser fire on that deck." Tuvok's voice was infuriatingly calm. "The doors to the sealed quarters of the _Vor'moch _crew have been opened."

"Where the hell is Kinsey?" Janeway demanded.

Tuvok's fingers raced fluidly over his console. "Still in the brig. A rescue attempt is likely. Dispatching additional security now."

If Kathryn had been angry before, she was enraged now. He could see her hands clench and unclench. Boarding a starship was a deadly insult; a violation no starship captain could ever completely live down. He'd seen Maquis who self-destructed their ships rather than let Cardassian boarders take control of them.

"Lock phasers and torpedoes on _Vor'moch. _If they want a fight, we'll give them one," she snapped resolutely. "Fire."

Tuvok obeyed. Chakotay tilted his head and watched the Klingon ship's shields glow briefly under the strike. The shields had taken it all; no harm done there. Too bad.

Janeway twisted in her chair, clearly torn between the battle with the Klingon cruiser and the battle taking place on the lower decks. Chakotay turned to Tuvok. "What's the status on the prisoners?"

Tuvok didn't look up, studying his console intently to marshal his forces. He opened his mouth to reply. Before he could, the intercom above cut on.

"Engineering to bridge!" B'Elanna shouted. "Intruder alert! We've got company! We're taking!"

Instead of a finished sentencea meaty thump ended the transmission. His blood chilled. Janeway twisted her head around and stared up at the speaker as if will alone might restore the connection.

"B'Elanna!" she shouted, and then turned to look at him. "Chakotay, take the engineering station. We need to lock them out."

He moved to obey her order, his throat tense and tight. Was it already too late? He knew the basics of the engineering station, but _just _the basics. The vision of B'Elanna sprawled out dead in Engineering kept appearing in his head like a malevolent thief sliding past the guards. It was all too plausible: she would have lunged at the invaders, no matter how many of them or how well-armed they were. And if these officers were willing to do the things they'd already done, firing on fellow Starfleet officers would be well within their abilities.

He bit his lip. He had to focus. He couldn't help her unless he stopped the _Vor'moch _crew.

Even just looking at the engineering console, without touching it, he could see settings changing. Whatever they were doing, he had to stop them.

"Helm is not responding," Paris said urgently.

"Lock them out," Janeway ordered.

Chakotay leaned over the console. "All right," he murmured. "Let's see what you've got."

* * *

Engineering was in the hands of the _Vor'moch _crew. Several burly, armed Klingons loomed over the _Voyager _engineers. They'd herded them away from the warp core, into the center of the room where they couldn't get up to any mischief. Barkovitch was beaming. It really hadn't been that hard; the _Vor'moch _officers had all been armed with phasers and disruptors, and the _Voyager _engineers had been unarmed. Now, the _Voyager _crew was standing in the center of the room, hands raised, glaring at their captors with the powerless anger of the weak. They were clustered around the limp form of their leader, sprawled on the deck.

She'd stunned B'Elanna herself. No one would realize it was a mercy. The Klingons would have simply shot her dead, and Barkovitch was a wannabe Klingon who would have done the same thing. At least this way, the other chief engineer would live to see another day. With a little less honor than before, but you couldn't always have everything.

In the meantime, though, she was out cold, and Crowley needed her command console to do what she needed to do. She stepped up to it and called up the standard LCARS display. The results made her grin. She had access to _everything. _

There wasn't anyone entering commands from the bridge, but there would be. Disabling the helm was available right from the first command menu, so Crowley did that. That ought to keep them busy for a couple of minutes.

She took B'Elanna's combadge and put it on her own chest. Some starships used combadges as security; if she had B'Elanna's combadge the computer would believe her to be B'Elanna. Had _Holden_? She couldn't remember. It had been a very long time since Megan Crowley had been on a Federation starship.

She tapped it as she worked. "Crowley to brig."

A moment later, a man's voice answered. "Ayala here. What do you think you're doing?"

"Shutting down your helm and getting into your engine control, mate," Crowley replied perkily. "And doing pretty good at it, too, if I do say so myself. I'll tell you what. Let Commander Kinsey out of the brig, and we'll just be on our way, then."

The man's reply was grim. "Never."

"Have it your way, then," Crowley said. She accessed the impulse engines. Now, she could make _Voyager _swoop and toss like an albatross, or loop the loop like a cockatoo, if it struck her fancy to do so.

Barkovitch walked up to her and gave her a sidelong look. "Can you get Kinsey out of the brig? Or should we just send down some troops and take him?"

Crowley gave him a level look. "The brig's designed to prevent rescue by force," she said. "We could be there a while.'

Barkovitch's brow furrowed. "Can you drop the forcefields so Koth can beam him off?"

Crowley consulted her display and tried to see what she might be able to access. Somebody on the bridge was trying to lock her out, but not doing a great job of it. She wasn't too concerned. When she was ready to make her move, they'd know about it.

She tried to access control to the brig's systems. That didn't work, but she'd expected it. Then she tried transporter control. For a moment, she had it. Then the words _ACCESS DENIED _scrolled across the screen in red.

An idea hit her, and she scrolled through screens. There it was. She punched a button on the panel and grinned devilishly.

"What did you do?" Barkovitch asked.

Crowley grinned again. "I cut off the artificial gravity on the bridge," she said craftily. "Let's see that bloke get in my way when he's floating on the ceiling."

Whoever was manning the bridge Engineering station now had other things to worry about, and Crowley had free rein to shut down power to the brig and access transporter control. A few minutes later, Kinsey sparkled into existence a few feet away. As a trained warrior, he only needed a second or two to get his bearings. He smiled tightly as he reviewed his troops, Klingon and Starfleet alike.

"Crowley. Barkovitch. Good work. I knew I could count on you," he said approvingly. "Status?"

"Engineering is in our hands, sir," Barkovitch reported. "_Vor'moch _is ready to approach close enough for a beam-out."

"I've got access to most of the ship's systems, including transporter control," Crowley added. "All you need to do is say, 'energize'."

Kinsey paused for just a moment to think. The space of time for one breath was enough. Then he nodded.

"Shut down their warp core," he ordered. "That'll give us a window of opportunity. Then hail _Vor'moch _and let's get out of here."

* * *

The bridge was chaotic. Harry Kim had completely lost his grip on the Ops station and floated helplessly several feet in the air above his console. Paris was trying to swim down to get a grip on the nonfunctional helm. Tuvok had managed to get a handhold and was hanging on by one hand. Captain Janeway held onto the captain's chair with one hand, trying to pull herself down through sheer grit and force of will.

Chakotay had one hand clamped onto the Engineering console. Zero-G was weird; he hadn't really experienced it since the Academy. It was strangely helpless. You could kick and flail all you wanted, and unless your legs contacted something solid there wasn't anything you could do to get down. He could see the display changing and scrolling as he tried to pull himself down.

"Report!" Janeway barked behind him.

"Artificial gravity offline!" Chakotay reported back, although she already knew that. He grabbed the console with his other hand and pulled himself down. "Warp core is shutting down. We're losing power!"

"Shields are down," Tuvok reported from behind them. "Unauthorized transport in progress."

"Stop them!" Janeway bawled. Yet everyone knew that they could only be stopped from the Ops console, and Harry Kim was floating several feet above it.

The viewscreen flickered from a starfield to the bridge of the _Vor'moch. _Koth sat in his command chair stolidly, looking impassively at them. Behind him, the doors opened. Crowley, Kinsey, and Barkovitch ran to take their stations. They did not look at the crew of the ship they'd just sabotaged.

"This is a shame, Captain Janeway," Koth said, his tone heavy with regret. "I had no desire to destroy you. You could have been our ally."

Chakotay didn't need to see Kathryn to sense her iciness. "Your Starfleet crew are war criminals," she said hatefully. "And so are you. Where's your honor, Koth?"

Koth shook his head slowly. "Honor is different here in the Delta Quadrant," he said. "I grow tired of the suffering of my crew. This will get them home." He shook his head sadly and observed them for another beat. "Besides, in dark times, there is nothing more honorable than victory."

Chakotay stared at the Klingon captain. He knew immediately what Koth was going to do. It was the same thing a Maquis captain would have done in those circumstances. Yet the floor was Kathryn's, and he'd been a Starfleet officer long enough to hold his tongue.

Kathryn wanted to say something more, but the Klingon did not give her the chance. He turned to Barkovitch and pointed his first two fingers in a universally understood gesture of Klingon captains. Chakotay let his eyes drift down to the Engineering console. Warp core down, shields down, weapons offline – a moment of hideous vulnerability, and it was a moment that Koth had seized.

"Barkovitch," Koth said sternly, "_fire." _


	12. Thoughtfulness and Fanaticism

_Author's notes: _

_Well, first it takes a while to get this chapter, then decides to go read-only before I can upload it. _

_Marshpusey: The Vor'moch crew didn't take the ship; they just took Engineering, held it for long enough to make some mischief, and got away. But yes, Voyager got taken over very easily a lot. _

_Libertymaquis: Poor Tom indeed. Tom has other problems, including Angry Janeway making a return. _

_Saavik: Somehow I knew you'd like Barkovitch. Floating bridge crew? Hey, why not? If I was on a starship the first thing I'd do would be turn off the gravity and watch people float around. _

_Worker72: So you want Voyager to lose. True, it never happened, but it's still a bit of a surprise to see._

_Krazy Kat Krueger: Glad you liked it. _

_JadziaKathryn: Moi? Like torturing my readers? Nevah. (Hush, Saavik.) Yes, B'Elanna isn't too happy. _

Koth leaned back in his chair and watched the photon torpedoes slam home into _Voyager's _engineering section. It brought him no pleasure to see; he knew it was difficult for the Starfleeters in his crew. Yet, in the end, it had become necessary.

Koth was a Klingon warrior; he cherished honor and knew the glory of battle. But the years of lonely command, being the sole law for his crew, had given him different perspectives. A young warrior could afford to be headstrong; he controlled only his own life. A commander had to be cooler-headed; he could not afford to be profligate with the lives of those under him. That was doubly so in the Delta Quadrant. Ever since they'd arrived, Koth had taken inspiration from a Klingon general of old, Morag the Survivor.

Morag had been forced to travel a long journey through the forests and deserts of Qo'nos with his men, cut off from any support from Kahless's men. For five years he had battled virtually everything around him in order to survive. His journals had been required reading for Klingon officers. For a Klingon captain stranded in the Delta Quadrant, Morag's words had seemed to be tailor-made advice.

"They took heavy damage," Sayba announced from her post. "Shields and propulsion are off line."

One more blow would finish _Voyager _off. Already, there was an ugly hole punched in the side of the ship, and forcefields were all that were keeping people from being sucked out. He watched small areas of the ship go dark, and realized they were sealing bulkheads. They were hurt, definitely.

"Latarran squadron approaching," Barkovitch said suddenly.

"Distance?" Koth asked.

"Two light years."

Koth nodded. They had time. All the same, he was tired of this. "We have done what we needed to do," he said. "_Voyager _will not be able to stop us. Engage cloak, and set a course for Salim Ru, warp eight. Notify the Karnaii that we are preparing to strike."

The Karnaii ships had been on alert since the Spanos test. They would be ready. The Latarrans would have their guard up, but Koth was not concerned. Latarran weapons technology was nothing like either the Klingon or Federation weapons at his disposal. All he had to do was enter orbit of Salim Ru, launch the weapon, and leave. He had no interest in losing his ship while these two childish races battled out their differences. He'd demanded that of the Karnaii; there were ships held back from their attack fleet for his purposes. All that he was required to do was launch the weapon into the atmosphere of the planet, and then they would help him get back home.

In a thoughtful moment, Koth looked around at his crew. Once, half his crew had been Starfleet officers: occasional enemies, always different. Even his Klingons, while brave warriors all, had changed. What would happen when they returned to Qo'nos? He had promised his crew bloodwine in the Central City, but what then?

Qo'nos had been his driving goal for so long that he had never really thought about what would happen when he finally saw it again. Looking around his bridge, he could see his human and Klingon crew working side by side. His ship was powered by Federation computers and EPS conduits. He'd grown used to seeing Federation LCARS panels. Even some of the bridge stations here were Starfleet; the Engineering station was taken entirely from _USS Holden, _the weapons station had Starfleet controls, and Navigation had an LCARS panel stuck incongruously in the middle of the Klingon controls.

Would the Klingon Defense Force and the High Council find what he had done honorable? He knew these humans like no other Klingon officer had. He had taken them under his command, and their behavior had been, in his opinion, flawless. They had endured hardships that no Klingon officer would have ever believed humans to be capable of. It had taken him a bit of time to realize this. The Klingon teaching that humans were weak had been mistaken. Understandable, perhaps, but mistaken.

Had the Klingons at home realized the same? _Could _they? Would he be mocked as a human-loving fool? Would it not be hideously ironic if he made it home only to discover that he did not belong there anymore?

He had never thought about such things until now. Of course, home had been unreachable for so long it had not really occurred to him. Now? If everything went well, he would be buying that round of bloodwine in the very near future.

"Kormack to the bridge," he said absently. Kormack was a strange man. He had never quite adjusted to life on a Klingon ship. The weedy little scientist appeared as ordered, staring at Koth with nervous, obeisant fear.

"Prepare the baryon warhead for deployment in torpedo tube three," Koth said.

"Of course, sir," Kormack said.

"Load the rest of the torpedo tubes with standard torpedoes," Koth added. "We will launch all five. Just in case."

He took a moment to look around at his senior crew. Karg, the scion of an ancient house. A warrior with an artisan's slightly more refined sensibilities. There was a bit of the bard to him. Barkovitch, who had seemed to take Klingon values to heart so well that Koth wondered if he had Klingon blood in his veins. Crowley, the irreverent Starfleet engineer who had commanded the rebuild of _Vor'moch _with Starfleet technology, and who had taken a Klingon to heart in an entirely different way. Kinsey, who had been his trusted right hand for these long dark years in the Delta Quadrant. There was no better first officer in either fleet. Sayba, the navigator who had borne _Vor'moch's _only child. Even BEleyra, who had been born and raised in the Delta Quadrant. How would she fit into a society she only knew from her parents and crewmates?

There was only one way to find out.

_Vor'moch _shimmered and cloaked, streaking through the void towards its target.

* * *

When B'Elanna Torres had first boarded _Vor'moch, _it had been fresh out of battle. Battle with allies of _Voyager, _no less. She well remembered smoke jetting from overhead pipes, broken EPS conduits spitting and sparking, Klingons and Starfleet officers running back and forth.

She'd awoken to find _Voyager's _engineering looking about like that, except there were no Klingons. They'd been there. She could sense their presence. It tore at her. There was a sort of sour vindication for her: she'd had misgivings about the _Vor'moch _crew from the word go. Ol' Tom was gonna have some explaining to do, buddying up to the Klingons and acting like everything was just hunky-dory. _Ha. Good call, there, Tommy boy. You really know people, don't you. _

Mostly, though, she was simply furious. It was hard to concentrate. Her job was to get _Voyager _back in fighting trim. The _Vor'moch _crew had invaded _her _engine room, shot _her _and left her on the floor, and sabotaged the ship neatly. Damn if they hadn't known right where to go to screw things up the most in the shortest period of time. There was a hull breach, half the systems were still shut down, and the warp core itself would take hours to power back up. It was galling. They'd helped the crew of _Vor'moch. _Their reward had been to be crippled by them.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to spit. Red hovered at the edges of her vision. She wanted to throw things. More than anything, she decided, she wanted Megan Crowley's head impaled on a pike. Right in front of the warp core, perhaps; it would make an appropriately Klingon conversational piece.

Her combadge twittered. "Bridge to Engineering."

B'Elanna bit down on the inside of her cheek hard enough to flood her mouth with the coppery taste of her own blood. She could be enraged. She couldn't show that rage to the captain.

"Engineering here," B'Elanna replied.

"What's your status?"

Saying it was worse. "Our warp core is shut down. We have a hull breach on deck ten. It'll take three hours to get the warp core back online, and even then we won't be able to make maximum warp. Maybe warp seven or seven point five."

There was a moment or two of silence.

"How long until you can fix the hull breach?" Janeway asked.

B'Elanna consulted her console. "Bulkheads are holding. To fix it...twelve hours at least."

"What's the maximum warp of the _Vor'moch_?"

B'Elanna blinked. Had she ever learned that? "A standard _K'Vort _class can make warp nine point six," she began. It was hard to continue; she didn't _want _to say what came next. Her throat kept trying to close off the words so it could clot in rage. "Even though they're heavily modified, I'd...guess that _Vor'moch..._can make that."

"We need warp as soon as you can get it running," Janeway said. "Otherwise we'll never catch up."

B'Elanna's eyes gleamed. Catch up? Did the captain want to pursue? Revenge sounded like a mighty good idea. The Klingons might say that revenge was a dish best served cold, but she wasn't that interested in Klingons points of view. She wanted her revenge hot, as hot as the blood of a few _Vor'moch _crewmembers spilling over her hands.

"I know a few Maquis tricks," B'Elanna said cagily. "They don't meet with Starfleet safety protocols, but,"

"Do it," Janeway said instantly, her voice clipped and stern. "Whatever it takes. We need warp as soon as you can get it. Do what you have to."

B'Elanna nodded and smiled craftily. _That _was what she hoped to hear. She cleared her throat and called out to her engineers.

"All right," she said. "Things are pressing, and we're going to sidestep a few of the rules. Listen up. We need to get the warp core back online quickly, and we need to patch the hull breach. Do what I tell you and it'll work fine."

Even with some rough planning and ignoring the safeties, it would take at least four hours. The hull breach would look ugly, but it would hold. With a dedicated integrity field, she could be sure. When this was over, the warp core would need a realignment, some of the coils would need to be checked, and she'd have to fill out several gigaquads of reports meekly confessing her crimes against the Great Big Book of Starfleet Rules. Usually she would also get a lecture from Captain Janeway about how Starfleet equipment was scarce and they couldn't risk damaging things that couldn't be replaced in the Delta Quadrant. Somehow, she thought this time the lecture might be skipped.

When the warp core came up, it ran a little hot. That was okay. It was within tolerances and she could cope with it. B'Elanna liked her revenge hot.

* * *

The time was almost at hand.

_Vor'moch _was three hours from Salim Ru. If they had to go faster, they could, but they ran the risk of discovery. The cloaking device was stable, _Voyager _was far behind them, and the Latarran squadrons they'd seen showed no sign of knowing they were there. They wouldn't need to decloak until they were actually in orbit of the colony. That gave the senior crew of _IKS Vor'moch _enough time for one final meeting with the Karnaii.

It wasn't a lengthy meeting. The preparations were already in place. The Karnaii invasion fleet was massing under cloak. By the time the fallout from the baryon warhead subsided enough to allow them to take the planet, they would be ready. Likewise, five Karnaii ships were in place around the wormhole for _Vor'moch's _benefit.

Kinsey had a bit more confidence than before. He'd wondered if the Karnaii could maintain discipline. Cloaking devices gave them a decisive advantage over the Latarrans, and they had opportunities they'd never had before – the ability to pass right by Latarran squadrons without being detected. He'd thought the squeaky little buggers might give in to the urge to decloak and fire. So far, none had. They hated the Latarrans with a rare fervor, but they had been able to get the job done. He found himself glad that he wasn't a Latarran on Salim Ru. It wasn't going to be pretty there once the Karnaii took over and avenged themselves of over a century of oppression.

In fact, he was glad he wasn't a Latarran at all. Janeway knew that they'd given the Karnaii cloaking technology, disruptors, and shields. What she didn't know was that Crowley and Srask's teams had built a mockup of _Vor'moch's _engine room back at their starbase. With the right know-how, the Karnaii would be able to produce their own baryon warheads within a few weeks. They didn't have that know-how yet. That was _Vor'moch's _hole card.

The Karnaii admirals entered the room. Klingons and humans alike towered over them. They exchanged greetings and sat down silently.

"We are prepared to commence combat operations," Koth said, and gestured at the LCARS panel on the wall. It showed a map of the space surrounding Salim Ru. "We suggest that a small fleet of seven ships attack the colony at Spanos in a feint. Just cause some damage, cloak, return, and keep the Latarran military forces on Spanos busy. Other ships will divert to Spanos and distract from our attack. Our part of the bargain is as follows. We will deploy the weapon against Salim Ru. Your attack fleet will not be able to land on the planet or enter the atmosphere for five hours. Once radiation levels have dropped to tolerable levels, you may attack at your will. All Latarran ground defense will be paralyzed."

"What about Latarran ships?" asked Admiral Rhoden. "Our fleet is larger than theirs, but their ships are stronger."

Koth paused and glanced at Kormack purposefully. The science officer shifted in his seat.

"The baryon weapon is only effective against starships at extremely close range," he said unwillingly, as if his child had a flaw. "Within five hundred kilometers. Modern starships are shielded against radiation. However, we have made some improvements for its intended use – radiation levels will clear in five hours, which is twice as fast as before."

"You must fight whatever Latarran ships are in orbit of Salim Ru," Koth said. "However, by the time they are able to send reinforcements, the planet will be under your control. The planetary defenses will be functional and under your control as well. You will be well able to fight off any Latarran counterattack."

Another admiral whose name Kinsey didn't know nodded. "We can also execute Latarran hostages," he said casually. Kinsey swallowed.

Rhoden's whiskers twitched. "We could use your help in pacifying the planet," he said thoughtfully.

Kinsey sighed but didn't reveal any other emotion. Koth scowled. "That was not our bargain," he said. "We simply carry the banner for you. We will deploy the weapon, fight our way out of Latarran space, and then you must fight the battle yourself. You are capable warriors. We gave you disruptors and cloaking devices. Use them!"

"You need our help to stabilize the wormhole," Rhoden pointed out. "We have the data on how to properly stabilize it so you get home."

Koth grinned toothily. "Data. Yes. We have data, too. We have the data on how to begin producing the baryon warheads with which you will be able to devastate any Latarran colony world you wish. We also have data on the cloaking devices aboard your ships. We designed them, after all."

Kinsey held his breath for a moment. Everyone in the room knew that the Karnaii wanted the secret of the baryon warhead as badly as the _Vor'moch _wanted to get home. What would the Latarrans give for the secrets of the outdated cloaking technology now deployed on Karnaii vessels? Probably quite a lot. It was a dangerous game to play. The Karnaii weren't exactly rational people. The difference between a moderate and a radical among the Karnaii was that moderate Karnaii simply wanted to kill every Latarran they saw; radical ones wanted to rip their eyeballs out and pour salt in the sockets first.

For a long moment, Kinsey found himself wondering how he could ever fit back into Starfleet. What could they possibly think of dealing with ruthless fanatics like this? It had been easier before _Voyager _came along; at least that way, no one would have ever known. Now, he wasn't so sure. It would have been easier if Koth had destroyed _Voyager _when he had the chance.

Rhoden simply nodded. "Of course," he said slowly. "We Karnaii are an honest people. We have the ships waiting at the wormhole for you. But of course, you will need to fight your way free of Latarran space. That is all I meant."

Koth nodded back, allowing the Karnaii admiral to back down with some grace. "I understand," he said. "However, we wish to return home before that Federation ship is functional again. We will transmit all our data on the baryon warhead once we are on our final approach to the wormhole. Not before." He smiled coolly. "In fact, once we are gone and you have your own baryon warheads in production...you may take the _Voyager. _It is heavily damaged, and its alliance with the Latarrans means that soon it will have no sources of supply. You would be able to take it over rather easily. Its technology will provide you with yet greater advantages." He stopped and smiled coldly. "In fact, I would suggest that _Voyager _serve as a model for the first line of heavy warships of the Karnaii Empire."

_Brilliant, _Kinsey thought. The possibilities in front of the Karnaii were dizzying; they were going to get to stomp their long-hated adversaries into the dirt. They were going to be the regional power for light-years around. Why not sell them a dream of taking over the Federation starship? It cost Koth nothing; it wasn't his ship to give away. He doubted they could, Janeway would probably self-destruct the ship rather than let her enemies have it. Anything was possible, he supposed.

But the thought of a wounded Federation starship being taken over by hostile forces still snagged at him somehow. Could he turn his back and get back to the Alpha Quadrant if that happened?

Hopefully, he wouldn't have to find out.

Rhoden brightened and began to groom himself with a fastidious paw. "We, too, have a ship for you," he said with studied casualness. "Your shuttle. It has been transported to the wormhole. You can pick it up there." He stared with dark eyes at the Australian engineer halfway down the table. "Lieutenant Crowley, Mr. Srask asked that I inform you that he himself oversaw the repair of your shuttle."

Crowley simply smiled and nodded. "Thank you," she said politely. "I hope to be able to thank him in person before we leave."

Kinsey strove to keep his face calm. If the Karnaii had gotten the shuttle, they'd almost certainly been aboard it. Had they noticed the modern cloaking device? Almost assuredly. Had they studied it? Possibly. Under normal circumstances he would have been sure of it, but this was only a few hours before the largest Karnaii military operation of the century. It was entirely possible they had other things to do.

Could they duplicate it? That was the five-bars-of-latinum question, wasn't it? If they could, then the Latarrans were destined to become a misty, distant memory around this part of space. If they couldn't, well, then it was still going to be quite a fight.

It didn't really matter to him – not when he would be several thousand light-years away in less than a day. Even so, he found himself wondering if he hadn't left something behind, something very dear that could not be easily replaced.

Yet the wheels of this juggernaut were already in motion, and he couldn't stop them. Koth was relying on him. He would give Koth his very best, as he always had. His path was set. Everyone's path was set.

"What do you know of _Voyager_?" Koth asked the Karnaii admirals.

Rhoden shrugged. "They are inside what is now Latarran space," he said. "They went to warp, but they cannot reach the colony before the attack."

Crowley startled, bringing her hands up to her chin and then forcing them back down. Her face turned chalky white. Koth caught it and eyed her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Crowley took a moment to collect herself and answer. "When we left, I set their inertial dampers to eighty-five percent and took the interface offline," she said hesitantly. "They...they'll work once, to go to warp. But they won't work when it drops _out _of warp. It would take at least twelve hours to get them online again, I thought it would be a good way to slow them down. Bloody hell, I never...I never thought they'd try to take off without checking it. I don't see how they could have. It would have tripped an alarm."

"Why is that so bad?" Rhoden asked, and seemed interested.

Crowley swallowed. "Because, sir, eighty-five percent means that fifteen percent of the inertia would _not _be dampened," she said. "So everyone and everything aboard that ship that's not bolted down would be thrown against walls...bulkheads...whatever's in their way."

"Would the crew survive?" Rhoden asked.

Crowley shook her head, pale and horrified. "No. Absolutely not. Decelerating like that from a warp bubble to normal space-time...there'd just be a bloody paste left." Kinsey thought she was using the term as he would have, not as she usually did. "You wouldn't need weapons to take the ship. Just a few mops to clean up the mess."

* * *

Tension hovered malevolently over the bridge of _USS Voyager. _Captain Janeway sat in her command chair, her face twisted, brooding like a raven. Her officers manned their posts, tense and uncomfortable. Next to her, Chakotay sat, facing away from her. _Voyager _twitched and stuttered at its true maximum warp, nine point nine seven five, and the engines were not too happy about it.

"Reading another warning on the warp core," Tom Paris said tightly.

Janeway turned to eye him for a moment. "Understood," she said in tones of pure ice. "Maintain course and speed, Mr. Paris."

"Sensors are clear. No sign of the _Vor'moch_," Harry said helpfully, looking nervous and abashed.

"Noted," Janeway replied tersely.

Chakotay leaned over and tried to talk to her quietly. "We can't keep this up for long," he murmured.

Her eyes burned at him. "Their maximum is warp nine point six," she said. "They've had several hours head start. We have to catch up."

"They wouldn't have gone at maximum warp. They want to sneak in and stay cloaked."

"You don't know that," she said resolutely. "Mr. Chakotay, let me make this clear. Under no circumstances am I going to allow anyone who wears this uniform to commit mass murder just to get home a little quicker. I don't care if they're on a Klingon ship. I don't care what they've been through. I _am _going to stop them if it's the last thing I do."

Chakotay felt his throat tighten. Her face seemed hard and alien, barely the woman he had known. All the safeties on the warp core were disengaged, which was frightening. The same seemed true of the captain. That was worse.

Was it too late already? What if they arrived to discover a Salim Ru that was already devastated by the _Vor'moch's _weapon? Crowley _had _said they were green across the board. Chakotay didn't want to see Salim Ru destroyed. He didn't want to see _Voyager _destroyed, either.

"We're getting another warning from the inertial damping system," Kim reported.

Janeway turned and gave the unfortunate ensign a full-on glare. "They did that before we went to warp. They worked fine, Mr. Kim. We've _never_ had a problem with our inertial dampers. We can't abort our mission just because of a few warning signs. Stay the course."

Heartburn ravaged his stomach and throat. He hated her like this; she might risk everything just to catch the _Vor'moch. _He leaned in again, knowing it would be fruitless but knowing just as surely that he had to try.

"We need the inertial dampers," he said. "Just think about this, captain."

The look he got in return was an arctic blast. "Mr. Chakotay," Janeway said sternly, "I _have _made my decision."

_Voyager _streaked on to an uncertain destiny.


	13. Tension

_Author's note: _

_Here we are, just before the final matchup. _

_LibertyMaquis: Personally, I liked Crowley's trick better, but that's just me. Glad you like things so far. _

_Worker72: I'm not sure the Karnaii would deal well at all with an enraged Klingon ship. We'll see. _

_Stoko: Yeah, just a bit of a cliffie. Here's more. _

_KrazyKatKrueger: Glad you like it. I like the varying viewpoints; it's fun. Also glad you liked 'Prodigal Daughter'. _

_JadziaKathryn: Well, we can't forget about poor Harry. (Though I don't share the Voyager writers' apparent need to torture him.) Glad you liked Angry B'Elanna. _

_Vor'moch _was rigged for silent running. Everything that could be shut down was. The weapons systems and shields remained on-line, just in case. The cloaking device was activated and stable. Salim Ru was only an hour away. Her stomach was tight with anticipation. The time was fast approaching.

Megan Crowley sat at her console in Engineering, keeping an eye on everything and trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Some of it was knowing that Salim Ru would not be as easy a target as Spanos had been; the Latarrans weren't stupid. There would be ships on patrol. _Vor'moch _had been able to knock the stuffing out of the squadrons who had attacked them after the Spanos operation, but they'd sure given her some work to do. There was no guarantee that _Vor'moch _would emerge victorious a second time.

Some of it was _Voyager. _She supposed they hated her and the rest of the _Vor'moch _crew. They had a right. She didn't hate them, though; she just intended to slow them down long enough for _Vor'moch _to complete its mission. Leaving them behind in the Delta Quadrant bothered her, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. It wasn't her fault _Voyager _had buddied up with the Latarrans and fired on the Karnaii.

The fact that they'd gone to warp with their inertial dampers downgraded nagged at her. How bloody stupid could they be? Surely it had to have warned them. She'd wanted to slow them down, not kill them all the instant the ship dropped out of warp.

Was there a way she could warn them? Koth was a conservative captain; he wouldn't let her hail them while the ship was under cloak. Not now, not with everything on the line. Even one signal could be traced back. Was it possible they didn't _know? _She didn't see how that could be; the warning systems were all working. It should've squawked at them that going to warp would be a really bad idea. Had they ignored it? It didn't make sense.

Her engineers knew their jobs. Everything was running as it should. _Vor'moch _was cloaked and would remain so until just before deployment. They would drop out of warp once they passed Salim Ru's sun. Then, final approach and launch.

She tapped her fingers against the console and thought. A beacon could do it. She had the parts to make one, and they could launch it out of a torpedo tube or a maintenace port. It would have to survive entering normal space, hang out for a little while, power itself up, and then transmit a message to _Voyager. _It wouldn't have to be that big – all it would have to be was a subspace transmitter that waited a little bit to turn itself on . At least that way _Voyager _would know to stay in warp until the situation was fixed.

Yes. A beacon. That would do the trick. She wandered over to her parts bin and began to collect what she would need.

Nobody asked her what she was doing. Rank had its privileges. Everyone was feeling the same tension she was. It was in the air, hovering over Engineering like a _targ _that was always ready to pounce but never did. The only sound was an occasional clicking of keys or touch panels and the sounds of her building the beacon.

"Is everything all right?"

Crowley jumped at the sound and turned to see Koth watching her. She smiled nervously and drew herself to attention. His eyes traveled from her to the beacon and back again.

"Oh, everything's fine, _devwI_," she assured him. "Is there a problem?"

He shook his head slowly, his dark eyes searching her face.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing at the device on her console.

"It's...er...it's a beacon, _devwI_," she said. "I was hoping...I mean, we don't want to _kill _everyone on _Voyager _for when they drop out of warp. This way we could warn them. The beacon won't power on for a few hours after we've left. They wouldn't be able to track our course from it with a few hours...I can set it to whatever you'd like."

Koth exhaled slowly.

"Crowley," he said tolerantly, "We can't risk anything until we've launched."

She studied his face. Was he serious? Surely he had to know what happened if the inertial dampers didn't work.

"_devwI_," she said, "they'll be killed if they don't get those repaired."

He nodded tightly. "They went to warp without checking it," he said. "A warrior does not need to save an enemy who is a fool." It was true that ignoring the warnings had been bloody stupid, but stupidity wasn't a capital offense. She swallowed and stared at him.

"Please, just think about it," she said. "_Voyager _won't be able to drop out of warp. They're probably going fast. They'd have to overshoot Salim Ru and keep going. We'd have hours of a head start. And then we make it to the wormhole and get out of here."

"Yes," he said sharply. "What happens then? _Voyager _could follow us through the wormhole into Beta Quadrant space and find a Klingon colony planet.. This could be...very difficult, Crowley. There will be many questions to answer, for both our Starfleet and Klingon officers. Kinsey will have to answer for the loss of the _Holden. _All of you will be asked questions by Starfleet. We will be asked questions by the Klingon Defense Force. Neither one will be delighted to hear of the bargain we made to get home." His eyes scanned hers unflinchingly. "I did not bring this crew across thirty-five thousand light years to have my crew confined to a penal colony. _Voyager..._made its own fate. Let it go."

Crowley stopped. Was he talking about allowing Starfleet officers to die? "We can collapse the wormhole ourselves when we're through," she objected. "That's easy. One photon torpedo at the right horizon, and no more wormhole. Besides, they'd never make it that deep into Karnaii space. At least this way they'd live."

Koth sighed. "They will figure it out eventually," he said. "You said their engineers were good."

She paused and opened her mouth. Closed it again without speaking. Koth watched her, unafraid, and shook his head slowly.

"You may launch the beacon _after _we have launched the warhead. Not before."

"But, _devwI,_" she said. "What if that's too late?"

"No," he said shortly. "That's an order. Man your post, Crowley. I need you to give me your very best – as you always have."

She didn't reply, but simply stared down at her console. Somehow, she'd hoped for better. It only went to show how Koth had changed; a normal Klingon captain would kill a junior officer who argued with him. Koth adjusted his cloak.

"They'll survive," he admonished. "Launch is in only an hour. You can deploy your beacon then."

"What if that's too late?" she persisted.

Koth gave her a look of consternation, and she knew she couldn't push it much further.

"You have your orders," he said. "Carry them out. Besides. You have other ties, don't you? When we came to the Delta Quadrant, I never would have thought a human woman would choose a Klingon."

Her mouth quirked. "You didn't grow up with a dad and three older brothers., the lot of them dyed-in-the-wool ockers," she said, grinning despite herself. "After Aussie men, Klingons are easy."

He seemed puzzled. "_Oq'r _blood or not, you are with Karg. He is of the House of Klasq, a house that has existed for over a thousand years. Do you want to bring dishonor on his name? Do you know what it would do to him?"

She flushed. "Sir--," she began.

"No," Koth said. "That is final, Lieutenant."

She swallowed. "Yes, _devwI," _she murmured. He nodded.

"Good," he said. "Standard procedure. We are at red alert." With that, he turned, striding back to the bridge.

It was hard to man her post, even though years as the supreme Engineering authority of this ship had ingrained it in her. She didn't want to think about what would happen if _Voyager _dropped out of warp. The ship would be fine; it would be the people smashing into walls and bulkheads who would suffer the consequences.

A slight sound made her turn. The ship's warrior princess, B'Eleyra, stood watching her with that strange deadly seriousness that she had. She did not speak.

"B'Eleyra," Crowley said firmly, "we're at red alert. Engineering is off limits. Go to your quarters, there's a good girl."

The little Klingon girl did not move. "Am I going to see Naomi again?"

Crowley gritted her teeth. The little Klingon guiltmeister knew just where to hit. "I don't know, B'Eleyra. Out. Or I'll comm your mum."

Usually, the threat of Sayba was enough to send the little girl running for cover. Not this time, however. She stood her ground firmly and eyed the engineer without flinching.

"I heard that _Voyager _is going to crash," she said. "Is that true?"

Crowley clamped her eyes shut and wondered if all kids were this tough, or just Klingon kids.

"That's not your concern," she said. "There's nothing anyone on this ship could do, anyway. They have their own engineers. They'll fix it."

"_You _could fix it," B'Eleyra persisted. "You're the best engineer in the whole Delta Quadrant. I heard Karg say so."

Crowley flushed. "Karg is a bloody flatterer, that's all," she replied.

The little girl gave her a pleading look. "But if everybody on _Voyager _gets squished, I'll never see Naomi again," she said. Yes, she'd heard something from someone. Her eyes looked strained and her voice adopted cajoling tones. "You could save them. I know you could. _Please?" _

Crowley opened her mouth, closed it, and finally decided to stand on procedure rather than argue with the ankle-biter any further. She tapped her combadge. "Crowley to bridge."

"Bridge here," Koth replied.

"The warrior princess won't leave Engineering," she said.

"Understood. On my way," Sayba cut in.

The wounded look the little girl threw at her was like a blow. B'Eleyra backed up beyond the door to Engineering, obeying the letter if not the spirit of the command.

"You _could _save them, if you wanted to," she spat. "You just _won't." _Her retreating feet beat a staccato on the deck. Crowley sighed and turned around to stare at her beacon. It was put together. All she would need to do was launch it.

Could she save them? Yes, she could. She could drop it out a maintenance port and Koth would never know it was gone. She'd have to adjust the sensors to cover it, but that was easy. The bridge would be tense now, and they would be worrying about Latarran fighter squadrons and trying to scan for _Voyager. _They wouldn't be watching her.

But then she felt guilty. That would be disobeying a direct order from Koth. She'd served him just as she'd served Captain Harriman, and he had been a good captain. He cared about his crew. He'd worked to ensure the Starfleet crew fit into the Klingon ship. Now they were all...something else.

On the other hand, she was still a Starfleet officer. Perhaps not the noblest one, not after what they'd done. Did she still have a responsibility to Starfleet? She wore their uniform still, and even if a few things had been forgotten in _Vor'moch_'s often harsh struggle for survival, she couldn't just turn her back.

What about Karg? She'd never expected to get involved with the Klingon version of a pommy herself, but Koth's words were true. She had to watch herself; things she did could dishonor his house. The House of Klasq was probably going to be less than delighted anyway when he announced that his intended was a small-town Aussie girl; she didn't want to make it worse for his sake. Karg was oddly sensitive for a Klingon. The poor bloke tried, he really did. He'd found those old _Mad Max _movies in an old _Holden _datacore; she'd barely been able to muster up the courage to explain to him that they were movies, not documentaries, and that 24th century Australia was not, in fact, plagued with leather-clad motorcycle gangs and radioactive areas.

It was sad but true; letting _Voyager _go its own way would make their lives a lot easier. There would be less questions to answer, and there would already be plenty of those. She could live with Karg on Qo'nos or she could live in a penal colony. It wasn't an easy decision to make. She picked up the smooth metal cylinder of her homemade beacon and eyed it thoughtfully. Yes or no?

The sound of a cleared throat made her turn. Was today Visit Engineering Day? She turned and saw Commander Kinsey standing inside the door to Engineering.

"I heard there was a problem with B'Eleyra," he said.

Crowley jerked and relaxed her cheek muscles in a forced smile. "Oh, no. She's gone. It's all right, sir."

He nodded slowly. "Koth also said you had a beacon. That you asked about warning _Voyager." _

Tension grabbed her hard. Kinsey would do what Koth wanted. He said that he disagreed with Koth in private, but to the crew they'd always been a united front.

"Yes," she said cautiously. "Koth ordered me not to launch it."

He nodded again. "What would launching it involve?" he asked curiously.

"It's small. You could drop it out a maintenance port," she hedged. "The chance of detection is minimal. It wouldn't turn on until we'd gone. We'd be safe."

"And Koth refused you permission to do it."

She sighed. "Yes, sir, he did."

"Well," Kinsey said, "he _is _the captain. So we have to obey his order."

Her lips twisted. She wasn't going to argue with him; it was just too damned painful. If she had to do this, she would.

"Throw it away, Crowley." Kinsey jerked his head towards the lower decks of Engineering, where the maintenance ports were. "Do you understand me? Take it down there...and throw it away."

A small smile crept over her face. It was matched by a furtive, brief grin that appeared on his face and vanished immediately after.

"Aye, sir," she acknowledged.

Crowley's beacon was about as long as her arm, and it tumbled from the maintenance port and into space without even being noticed by _Vor'moch's _sensors. As the Klingon ship closed on its target, the beacon spun and whirled as it fell out of _Vor'moch's _warp bubble and landed in normal space-time. After a moment, its timer came on, and it began to count down.

* * *

_Voyager _remained at high warp, with most of her safeties uncoupled and the warp core running hot. At that, Captain Janeway didn't blink. Necessity. B'Elanna would keep the ship safe. Janeway had faith in her engineer.

The silence on the bridge was tense and oppressive. The atmosphere suggested that some cruel soul had turned up the atmospheric pressure to twice normal. She held her tongue, waiting. Stars streaked by as _Voyager _continued desperately to Salim Ru.

Harry Kim broke the silence, staring curiously at his console. "Captain," he said slowly, "we're receiving a message. An automated hail, audio only."

Janeway tilted her head. "Put it through," she directed.

The bridge speakers clicked once; the audio quality wasn't the best.

"G'day, _Voyager," _an Australian-accented voice she recognized instantly said. "I'm hoping you won't simply ignore this." The voice stopped and sighed. "It's too bad we had to fight. But none of us wanted to _kill _you. We just wanted to slow you down enough to complete what we agreed to do. For...for our allies. Anyway, when we left your ship we set your inertial dampers to eighty-five percent. That leaves fifteen percent. If you're doing over warp nine, and I bet you are, that means when you drop out of warp everybody's going to look like a plate of puked-up _gagh. _I...I never thought you'd have gone to warp with the inertial dampers downgraded."

Janeway frowned. The Starfleet turncoat seemed to be struggling; she could hear it in her voice.

"I know you're mad at us, and I know you think we're awful," the voice continued. "But if you'd met the Karnaii first, you might understand...anyway. We're still Starfleet officers too, even if we're not prize examples. But we don't want your deaths on our hands. You need to maintain your current speed until your inertial dampers are back to normal. The access code is four-six-four-eight-alpha. You'll have to overshoot Salim Ru; it'll take twelve hours to get them back online."

"B'Elanna, I'm sorry, and if circumstances had been a little different, we could have been great mates. But...we play the hands we're dealt. Don't try to stop us...just fix your own ship and find a way home, just like we have. Nobody here has any desire to see you dead. Crowley out."

At the Engineering station on the bridge, B'Elanna tensed as her name was spoken. Her anger remained burning hot; she'd repaired _Vor'moch _to the best of her ability, and her reward had been Crowley turning her ship into a big flying deathtrap.

"Torres, check the inertial dampers," Janeway directed icily.

Pulling up a diagnostic made her scowl. A white-hot blast of fury shook her as the result scrolled up on the screen.

_Inertial Damping capacity 85_

_WARNING: Starfleet Recommended Capacity is 99.95 _

It was true. If they dropped out of warp, the deceleration would turn just about everyone on the ship into chunky salsa. She growled, showing her teeth to the screen, which seemed unfazed.

"That's the error message we've been getting," she said slowly. "She must've done it."

Janeway's face seemed as hard as stone. "Fix it," she said.

"It'll take twelve hours." That was the truly galling admission: at the last, _Vor'moch _had outsmarted them. Salim Ru was not far away. They'd either have to circle the planet, sticking out like a sore thumb, or overshoot it and keep on going, leaving the Latarrans to their unlovely destiny.

"We don't have twelve hours," Janeway said. "They're _not _getting away with this."

Chakotay looked sick. "Captain," he murmured.

She was loyal enough to Chakotay to resent the fierce, blazing glare the captain turned on him.

"No," she snapped. "B'Elanna, you've got half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes."

Already, B'Elanna's brain was spinning, trying to think of some way to outfox the _Vor'moch _one more time. Inertial dampers were reliable; they rarely had problems. But they had their demands, and she couldn't think of something that could speed up the process that quickly. The inertial dampers took twelve hours to recharge; it just wasn't possible to get them up and running in half an hour.

Could they use the gravity of a star to slow them down? They'd need a big one to do it. It would look stupid, but it might work. The problem was that then they'd be stuck at impulse. They'd plod along to a Salim Ru already under Karnaii occupation. And if it didn't work, then they'd all be dead.

Black holes? Wormholes? Dark matter? Ideas coalesced in her brain and died almost as quickly. Nothing seemed to get over that one big problem of inertia.

"I can't," she said. "Believe me, captain, I'd love to, but there's a cycle, and it takes time. We can't go after them until this is fixed. I might be able to get us stopped, but we'd lose warp. We'd need a big star and a precisely plotted course. Other than that, it's twelve hours."

Janeway shook her head. "In twelve hours, the _Vor'moch _will have launched and the Karnaii will be occupying the planet. I need this ship in fighting shape and I need it ready in an hour." Her eyes blazed at Torres, not just ordering it but _demanding _it.

For a fraction of a second she glanced over at Tom, manning the helm with worry carved into his face. _Still think the Klingons were such good buddies? _The only thing she could think of was to find a star, circle around it and use its gravity to slow them down gradually, and get back to normal space-time. She could repair the ship, get it ready, and then they could pursue the _Vor'moch. _The Latarrans and the Karnaii would have to duke it out themselves. They couldn't stop the _Vor'moch _in time, but if they could get back in shape, they might be able to fight them before they made it back home.

"I can't," she said. "Not in that time frame. We can't pursue them any more. Let's stop, repair the ship, and then go hunting for them. "

Janeway sat back in her chair, sighed, and seemed to weigh something in her mind.

"No," she said. "Maintain course, and I want sensor readings on Salim Ru as soon as we can get them. Scan for cloaked vessels." It was clear she intended to stop the _Vor'moch _or die trying. Then a thoughtful expression crossed her face and she mused for a few moments.

"A star," she said, sounding more like the scientist she was than the obsessed fanatic she had become. "I think you're on to something, B'Elanna. How's our shield status?"

"Like everything else," B'Elanna said. "It works, but every safety we have is offline. I hotwired them. What...what exactly are you thinking?"

Janeway told her.

B'Elanna blanched. So did Chakotay, Kim, and Paris. Tuvok simply raised an eyebrow and opined the idea was unwise.

"You have your orders," Janeway said smoothly. "Mr. Paris...adjust our course."


	14. The Time is At Hand

_Author's notes: _

_Weird how it sometimes goes – I have a zillion plot bunnies ready to go, but haven't decided what to go with yet. I've got two chapters for each. So I'll allow my devoted and adoring readers to have a voice. A trip to the Mirror Universe Voyager style, a visit from a DS9 style Defiant-class cruiser a la 'Valiant', a hyperactive Q who shows Janeway a path not taken vis-a-vis Equinox -- what do you want to see? _

_But this one isn't quite yet done yet. _

_Worker72: Yes, the Vor'moch crew is having some doubts, but Janeway doesn't. I will promise you this: they won't blow up the ship at the end. _

_Marshpusey: I did not sign the Cliffie Non-Proliferation Treaty, nor did I ever sign the UN Convention on the Rights of Fanfic Readers, and therefore there isn't much that can be done about it. :) _

_KrazyKatKrueger: Glad you liked it. I figured B'Eleyra would be a good character to deliver that message. _

_Stoko: Here's where you get to find out what she ordered them to do. _

_LibertyMaquis: Yes, the Vor'moch crew has some dirty tricks. Here's more. _

The time was at hand.

Admiral Rhoden of the Karnaii Defense Organization had quite literally grown up to hate Latarrans. His father had told him of how the colony at Salim Ru had been a paradise. A paradise taken away from them by the brutal, villainous Latarrans. For over a century, recapturing their home had been the burning, central focus of every Karnaii old enough to know the story.

He had been there when _Vor'moch, _low on food and dilithium, entered the Karnaii reservation. Others in the KDO had felt they were a threat. Rhoden had known better. They were only travelers, and they had far better technology than his race had been able to scrounge up on the desolate planets that the Latarrans forced them to live on.

He would have been satisfied with disruptors and cloaking devices. The doomsday device in trade for the wormhole had proved to be a masterstroke. He'd always been a cunning negotiator, and wheedling _Vor'moch _into carrying out both a test and an attack had been his finest hour.

No, he thought, looking over the screen on which white points indicated cloaked Karnaii vessels. His finest hour would be very soon, when _Vor'moch _deployed the baryon warhead. It would be his feet that set foot on Salim Ru for the first time in a century. He would be the first Karnaii governor of the colony. It would be his name that would be in the history books.

He still had doubts as to whether or not _Vor'moch _would be able to use the wormhole. Occasional Klingon garbage – unmanned satellites and similar things – had come through. They had never been able to send anything through from their end; their ships could not hold up under the immense gravitational forces of the wormhole. On the few occasions they had tried, the ships had been crushed like eggs.

Even so, the miraculous technology that this ship had gave them immense advantages. One ship that was far larger than anything the Karnaii could produce. One ship that had slipped through the Latarran military net with ease, and devastated the colony on Spanos. Their weapons, their cloaking devices – he'd known he had to get them.

Now, he had it all. He had the disruptors and the cloaking devices, and his engineers had worked night and day to deploy them on as many Karnaii vessels as they could. Sending Srask to the wormhole had hurt – there was no better engineer in the entire Karnaii Defense Organization. Still, he had confidence in his ragtag fleet. He needed Srask to get the very last card _Vor'moch _had to play – the secret of the baryon warhead.

Rhoden's ship was small by the standards of the Federation or the Klingons. It was roughly one-quarter the size of _Vor'moch _or the Latarran bootlick _Voyager._ It was the best the Karnaii could manage, and it was up to the task required of it. It could reach warp five, and it had sufficient facilities to direct the invasion of Salim Ru. The Karnaii had learned to make do with what resources they had.

Soon, they would have more resources than they knew what to do with.

There was talk in the Karnaii Defense Organization about what they should do with the Latarrans, once this was all complete and the Karnaii held the whip. Some admirals had suggested a punitive peace with their former tormentors. Some had suggested attacking the remaining Latarran planets, driving the Latarrans slowly but surely to Latarra Prime and imprisoning them on their own planet forever. Some of his more extreme staff wanted to extirpate the hated race entirely.

Rhoden had not yet decided. The best part was that the Karnaii would have the military power to carry out that threat, if things went well. But he was not so drunk with the possibilities of power as the others. The Latarrans would have to be crushed. Their ships would be destroyed, their officers killed. It was likely they would need a stark lesson on their new circumstances. He was ready to give that lesson.

He stared at the map of Salim Ru on his wall. The _Vor'moch _did not intend to fight off the defenses over the main cities of Salim Ru; the ship itself would be somewhere over the vast ocean, or perhaps hovering over a faraway continent. They had a relatively easy part to play. _Vor'moch _did not need to engage Latarran defenses; they could be on the other side of the planet and fire their baryon weapon.

Rhoden sat down and closed his eyes. Salim Ru would be theirs again, and the Latarrans would at long last taste their due justice. The Karnaii would rule triumphant. A century of oppression and bitterness, and it would be over within a few hours.

The time was at hand.

_Vor'moch _dropped out of warp approximately a million kilometers from the sun of Salim Ru. The cloaking device was well within tolerance, and there would have been no more than a momentary flicker on any nearby ships' sensors. The only nearby ships were planetary defense ships which were buzzing around Salim Ru. Their sensors couldn't even penetrate the old cloaking devices that the Karnaii had, let alone the _Vor'moch's _state-of-the-art technology. They buzzed over the colony, protecting it like bees protecting their hive.

That did not bother the crew of the _Vor'moch. _They could eavesdrop on the Latarran frequencies. Their allies in the Karnaii had given them the keys to the encrypted military frequencies, so they could hear everything. There was no indication that dropping to impulse had aroused any suspicion from their target. They would have to enter the atmosphere, but they could enter wherever they wanted; the baryon warhead had a standard torpedo engine, and could be launched from anywhere.

The fire control crews had already loaded the large weapon into torpedo tube three, and the other torpedo tubes were loaded with standard photon torpedoes. All five would be launched. It would take no more than two minutes for the warhead to fly from _Vor'moch _to just over the central city on Salim Ru, where it would explode high over the skies.

The Latarran military was on high alert, but Koth was not worried. They would see _Vor'moch _and fire on her, assuredly. That would be a problem if _Vor'moch _planned to stand and fight. He didn't. Even at warp eight, he would be able to outrun any Latarran ship. This was the Karnaii's battle

Koth sat on his bridge, Kinsey alongside him. The senior bridge crew were all at their posts. Everything was as it should be. This might prove to be easier than he had thought. They would enter the atmosphere of the planet at the southern pole, then slowly vector northwest until they were over a large planetary landmass they'd identified from maps the Karnaii had provided. He'd identified that as the best point from which to fire: within torpedo range, but far enough away from Latarran patrols that they would have a small head start to exit the atmosphere and get en route to Karnaii space.

Staying cloaked in an atmosphere was a difficult matter; the cloaking devices of the Klingon Empire were designed to work in deep space. In an atmosphere you had to deal with sonic booms and the simple, inescapable fact that you were pushing through air and could thus be detected. The _K'Vort _class worked well in atmospheric conditions, although nothing could match the small, highly maneuverable _B'Rel. _

For a moment Koth thought back to his first posting. He'd been weapons officer on a _B'Rel _class ship. Later, he'd helmed one. Nothing could swoop and toss like those little scouts. But _Vor'moch _was up to the task. They only needed to be in the atmosphere for a few minutes.

He stared at the viewscreen, the bright living world of Salim Ru ahead of him. It would take perhaps ten more minutes to reach the planet at full impulse. It wouldn't be long until they were done with this unpleasant duty, and then they could be on their way.

"Something coming up fast. Warp...nine point nine seven five," Sayba said abruptly, breaking off his reverie. "It must be _Voyager." _

He grunted, surprised. "On screen."

The screen flicked from planet view to the sun of Salim Ru. A small speck hurtled towards it. Koth tilted his head. Were they planning to plunge themselves into the star? It didn't make sense.

_Voyager _altered course just slightly, still heading towards the star but now moving up, as if it intended to slice off a chunk of superhot gas. It turned again, wheeling inside the huge ball, shuddering occasionally under the intense gravimetric forces. Koth frowned.

"What in the bloody hell?" That was Karg, who had adopted a few phrases of his inamorata.

"They cannot last long _inside _a star."

That much was true; starships were capable of passing through a star at warp, or even at impulse. Yet no starship could spend too much time inside one, not if it intended to maintain the crew aboard it. _Voyager _curved again, still _inside _the sun.

He realized what they were doing.

"They are attempting to slow themselves using the gravity of the star," he mused. Clever.

"Either that," Crowley added from the engineering station, "or they'd prefer burning to death to being crushed."

"Belay that," he admonished, his eyes still on the screen. She was right, though. If they stayed in the star too long they would die just as assuredly as if they had dropped out of warp without inertial dampers.

The sun emitted solar flares as if objecting to this tiny intruder, but they did not concern Koth. The cloaking device could compensate. _Voyager _could play in the sun for as long as it wanted. His job was clear.

"We could hit them while they're busy," Kinsey suggested. "The Latarrans probably wouldn't detect it."

_Vor'moch _continued at full impulse towards it target. Behind it, _Voyager _careened and capered in the sun. What was happening on that ship? He tried to calculate how long it would take to use a star's gravity to gradually slow. It would be hellishly difficult, and if one small move was incorrect – one course change executed a few seconds too late, one calculation slightly off, or one system failing at an inopportune time – the result could mean instant death. Deep space was unforgiving of mistakes. At ten thousand degrees Kelvin, it was triply so.

Would they have time to slow from high warp to normal space? Perhaps. All the same, he intended to move carefully and stealthily until he had some indication that they didn't see him. For a moment he was tempted to turn about and fire on the Federation starship while it frolicked in its inhospitable environment. Then he shook his head.

"Maintain course," he directed. "Weapon status?"

Barkovitch checked his console. "Loaded in torpedo bay three, ready to fire. We need thirty seconds to arm the warhead."

Koth nodded. "Arm it now," he said.

Far below the deck, in the belly of the ship, the homemade baryon warhead began to hum as it armed.

The time was at hand.

If the bridge had been tense before, it was charged now. Stubbornness and anger radiated from the captain's chair. Tom Paris manned the helm, misgivings on his face and churning his belly. Tuvok was stone-faced in the way only Vulcans had mastered. Harry Kim was noticeably twitching as the ship approached the sun.

Salim Ru's sun was a small star, but even so, it was at least ten thousand degrees Kelvin. That was more than enough to cook every last member of _Voyager's _crew to a crisp. Under normal conditions, this was dangerous. With most of _Voyager's _safeties undone, it seemed suicidal.

"Mr. Paris. Alter our course by forty-five degrees mark two." Janeway's voice was ice.

"Altering course, aye," Paris said, his voice strained and wracked.

"Mr. Kim. Hull temperature."

"Seventeen hundred degrees."

Next to her, Chakotay sat silently, his hands bunched into fists. _Voyager _plunged into the star and shuddered under the gravitational forces.

Thirty seconds of intense, strained silence passed.

"Current speed," Janeway said.

"Warp nine point five...nine point three five...nine point two," Tom recited weakly.

"Good. It's working." She did not move. "Hull temperature, Mr. Kim?"

"Two thousand degrees," Kim said.

"Alter course. One thirty five mark four."

"Course altered, aye," Paris said.

There was no camaraderie, no pleasantry, nothing but the tension of a captain determined to stop her ship as fast as she could and a crew who believed she was risking their lives to do so. Yet slowly but surely, _Voyager _was able to use the gravity of the star to coast to a stop, making tight, quick turns that the degraded inertial dampers couldn't keep up with.

"Warp eight point three. Eight point two. Eight."

"Hull temperature three thousand degrees. Sensors in the hull are degrading."

"Maintain course," Janeway said inexorably.

An alarm sprang to life. Kim tensed at his post. "Captain, the main sensor array is overheating. It can't take that much heat."

"_Maintain course." _

Another few tense minutes, another course change to remain inside the star. Alarms began to peal overhead. Janeway ignored them. They had to slow down, and they _were _slowing down. It was working. All they had to do was slow down enough to return to normal space before the ship took too much damage.

"Speed," Janeway said.

"Warp six point four," Paris said. "Six point three. Six point two."

"Phaser arrays four and six are overheating," Kim reported nervously.

Chakotay glanced over at his obsessed captain. "We can't spend much more time in here," he said.

Janeway turned around and stared at him with steely, hard eyes. "We'll spend as much time as we need to," she said, her voice bitten and hard.

As _Voyager _slowed further, the gravimetric forces began to have a stronger effect. But over a billion _Voyagers _could have fit in the star, and those same gravimetric forces tossed the ship like a twig on a river, and its systems could not take the abuse.

"Warp three. Two point seven. Two point four," Paris reported ten minutes later.

"Phaser arrays four, six, and eight are offline. Main sensor array is cutting in and out. Structural integrity field is fluctuating."

"One more turn ought to do it," Janeway mused. "Bring us about, two twenty five mark three."

Paris acknowledged the order, carefully maintaining the slowly dropping numbers. The intense heat of the star was beginning to overwhelm the environmental control systems, and the temperature of the bridge had risen. Janeway held firm.

"Warp one point five...one point two..._normal space!_" Paris said.

At the same time, sparks spat from several consoles. Harry Kim ducked away from his own with the quick reflexes of youth. A moment later, he returned to it and scowled.

"Main sensor array is cutting in and out, phaser power relays are fused. Shield generators functional, but only to twenty-five percent. And we can't go back to warp until we fix the inertial dampers."

"We still have torpedoes," Janeway said dismissively. "Mr. Paris, get us out of here. Full impulse."

It was the first order he had been happy to receive, and _Voyager _darted out of the star and into normal space. The ship showed signs of the immense abuse it had been asked to take. Sensors mounted on the hull were fused, burned and misshapen. Its lights flickered. The phaser strips had gone dark and useless. The hull, normally a proud bright white, was now a dull gray that had scorched black in irregular shapes.

But if _Voyager _was bloodied, it was unbowed. It was whole and armed and could make impulse, and it could do what its captain demanded it to do. Virtually the entire crew heaved a sigh of relief when _Voyager _left the star and proceeded towards the planet.

"Sensor sweep," Janeway ordered. "See if we can find them."

Tuvok cleared his throat. "If we lose the main sensor array, our sensor capacity will be severely degraded." he said. "Our shields are weak and phasers are offline. The ship is functional only in the most basic way. I must recommend against combat operations at this time."

Janeway frowned. "Duly noted, Mr. Tuvok," she said.

Chakotay looked over at her, his eyes straining for any sort of reason in her. "Think this through," he whispered. "We can't see them, we have no phasers, and we can't go to warp. They're in fine shape. If we get into a slugging match, we _will _lose. Captain, please. "

Janeway turned and eyed him with not an iota of softness in her gaze. "I have thought it through," she said archly. "We are _not _sitting idly by while a war crime is committed. Scan whatever we can. Set a course for Salim Ru. Maximum impulse." She smiled coldly.

"Course laid in," Paris said tightly.

"They're _cloaked," _Chakotay said. "We can't detect a cloaked vessel."

"Once they're in the atmosphere we'll be able to detect them," Janeway grinned. "Once they're in the atmosphere, they have to move _air. _Air in front of them, and air behind them. We can detect that as long as the main sensor array is online. Look for sonic booms, look for moving air masses."

"And if we lose the main sensor array, then we're a sitting duck for when they fire back. Kathryn!"

Harry Kim's voice was strained; he clearly didn't want to say what he was about to.

"There's a moving air mass over the southern pole of the planet. The size is about right."

"That's them," Janeway said. "Photon torpedoes. Full spread. We get one good shot, so let's make it count."

Chakotay stared blankly at her. "Have you lost your mind? We _cannot fight them, _captain. We're barely functioning as it is."

She turned to him and stared at him with eyes as merciless as any Klingon.

"Mr. Chakotay, you are relieved of duty until further notice. Report to your quarters or I'll have security escort you there."

Chakotay rose, looked around the bridge, sighed, and left without a word.

"I believe you should consider Mr. Chakotay's advice," Tuvok said.

"Mr. Tuvok, you have a choice. You may join Mr. Chakotay, or you may obey orders."

Tuvok seemed miffed. "As always, I will obey your orders."

"Good. Obey this one. Target the air mass...and _fire." _


	15. Firing Line

_Author's notes: _

_There, here's another chapter. I can't always keep up the pace, but I did now. Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed. So far that's two for Hyperactive Q, one for the mirror universe. I'm a bit surprised the Karnaii have gone over as well as they have; they're ruthless little sentient rats. (I guess you all liked when they called Janeway a lackey.) _

_Saavik: Yeah, I agree, Tuvok never stood up to Captain Janeway (then again, Chakotay didn't often either.) _

_Krazy-Kat-Krueger: Yeah, Janeway's just a bit obsessed. She's more fun with some flaws. _

_Worker72: I'd never planned to have the Klingons blow up their ship. Blow up other people's ships, sure. But not their own. You may get your wish yet...it is an interesting premise. _

_Stoko: I am afraid they don't improve yet. Valiant was a DS9 episode about a bunch of gung-ho Red Squad cadets. I liked the premise. _

_LibertyMaquis: Glad you liked it. You want the mirror universe, eh? After watching "Through a Mirror, Darkly" the idea has come back to mind. Here is some more. _

_JadziaKathryn: Thanks, and glad you liked the chapter. However, I haven't yet signed the Cliffie Non-Proliferation Treaty and don't plan to. Ask Saavik. ;) _

Alarms pealed on the bridge of _Vor'moch _as the ship shuddered. _Voyager _had fired four photon torpedoes, and three had hit. Already stressed under the demands of working in an atmosphere, the Klingon ship shook and thundered. Several bridge crew were thrown from their stations. Koth, too, was thrown from the captain's chair. His large, mighty body made a fine projectile, smashing against the weapons station. He emitted a dull groan, then fell silent.

Kinsey had grabbed one arm of the captain's chair, and that had saved him. Quickly, he sprinted over to where the fallen captain lay. Even as he pulled Koth away from the edge of the console, his stomach lurched. The side of the station was splattered with bright pink blood.

But the Klingon's blocky hands grabbed at his as he tried to pull Koth to his feet. Koth's eyes were hazy and far away. His weight was a lot more than Kinsey's, and the human staggered trying to help. He was alive, but not all there.

_Great. Just great. What now? _

But the answer was clear and ingrained in him. _Vor'moch _needed a captain. Kinsey tapped his combadge.

"Bridge to transporter room," he said.

"Transporter room here," a Klingon voice grunted. Kinsey tried to think. Who was on duty? Didn't matter, did it?

"I need a site-to-site transport for Captain Koth to sickbay. Now!"

"_luq." _

A moment later, Koth dissolved into orange sparkles. The doctor was on duty in sickbay; he could see to Koth. That could be worrisome; blows to the head around the ridge area could kill Klingons. It would be hideously ironic if Koth got them home only to spend his life as an invalid.

_Hell with that. I'll stand Hegh'bat for him if that's what it is. Now I have to get the mission done. _

The bridge crew glanced over at the empty captain's chair. Kinsey sat down in it, grabbing the arms. He would've given anything not to be there, but he had responsibilities to his captain and his crew.

"I'm in command," he said. "Koth will be fine as long as we complete our mission. Damage report!"

"Weapons online," Barkovitch announced.

"Not quite," Crowley added. "Phaser bank offline, disruptors are fine. No hull damage, shields functional. Impulse engines offline." Her fingers flew over the panel. "There, it's reinitializing."

The disruptors were more than enough to fight off _Voyager. _They hadn't scanned it, not wanting to give away their position. Even judging by eye, that was one hurting ship. Why were they still attacking? Didn't Janeway care about her crew?

"I have a weapons lock on _Voyager_," Barkovitch announced.

If he shot at the damaged starship, Latarran ships would know his position. The mission was first priority. He had to get away from her now. He was pretty sure he could do that. He'd been at Koth's side for long enough to have learned a few tricks.

"Karg, dive for the deck! Sixty-degree vector through the atmosphere!"

Karg obeyed, tilting the ship and heading towards the planet at full thrusters. _Vor'moch_ dove towards the planet's surface, dropping thousands of meters in just a few minutes. Its thrusters roared. As it dove through the atmosphere, the rush of air past the ship competed with the roar of the thrusters to create a rushing wall of sound. It made it hard to hear, and the bridge crew had to shout.

"Status," Kinsey said.

"We're getting re-entry burn...within parameters. Shields are holding," Crowley called out.

"Coming up on optimal firing range in five minutes," Karg bellowed.

"_Voyager _is entering the atmosphere. Latarran planetary craft are diverting to our location. They can see us."

Kinsey knew better. They couldn't see the ship itself, but they could see a big blob of heat on their sensors, and if they could shoot at the blob, it would amount to the same thing.

"Can they catch us?" he asked.

"Not likely," Karg said. "Mostly planetary craft, not capable of space travel. Thrusters only. There are two warp-capable craft, but they are using thrusters too."

Kinsey watched the blips on the screen. Warp was out; you couldn't go to warp in an atmosphere. If those warp-capable ships went to impulse they could be here in a heartbeat, but they were too small to fight _Vor'moch _alone.

"Time to intercept?" Kinsey asked.

Barkovitch bent over his console. "Intercept in four minutes."

"What about _Voyager_?" Kinsey asked.

"They're already in torpedo range. They can intercept us in three minutes, depending on the damage they took."

"How long to get the impulse engines online?" he asked.

Crowley bent over her screen. "Three minutes," she reported.

Did he have those three minutes? It depended on how damaged _Voyager _was. If he did, he'd be fine. If not, he knew how he could buy them. The Karnaii had helped them calculate an optimum firing point – the best point from which to fire the weapon and make their getaway. This wasn't going to go as smoothly as the test on Spanos had. But it would work.

"Head to optimal firing point," Kinsey ordered. "Let's give Janeway something else to do."

* * *

Janeway scowled at the fluctuating viewscreen. The main sensor array was cutting in and out, and the auxiliaries couldn't catch up fast enough. The result was a flickering viewscreen flickering to black incessantly. It was enough to drive her insane.

The tension on the bridge was palpable. She'd hoped getting Chakotay off the bridge might make the others think a little more about their duties as Starfleet officers and less about trying to find ways to get out of it. It didn't seem to have worked. How could they look the other way? There were _Starfleet _officers aboard that ship, betraying their uniforms, betraying _everything _they had sworn to do. They had sabotaged _Voyager _and reduced her to this state.

They couldn't see _Vor'moch _itself, just the air it pushed and the heat it created. She didn't know if the torpedoes had hit home or not. That was maddening too; she'd thrown a punch and had no idea if it had knocked out her foe or if it had simply been shaken off.

Then _Vor'moch _began to dive. Janeway frowned. Were they hurt? Crashing? Now _that _would be a sweet vindication. She could imagine picking up war criminals from the wreckage. Hopefully they would get to them before the Latarrans did.

But after a few moments she dismissed the idea. _Vor'moch _was in a steep dive, but a controlled one. Their flight pattern didn't match a crashing ship.

"What the hell is he doing?" she asked heatedly.

No one answered. She continued staring at the screen with angry, hot eyes.

"Hail the Latarrans. Advise them of the _Vor'moch's _location," she ordered. "Let's get some help."

"Aye, captain," Harry said behind her, still sounding unnerved.

"Another volley of photon torpedoes," she continued. "Let's stay with them. Mr. Paris, move us in closer."

The screen flickered to black again and did not come back.

Janeway rose from her chair and cursed.

"Main sensor array is down," Kim reported.

"Well, get it back!" Janeway insisted.

Several long seconds passed. Janeway stared at the screen as if she could force it to function by sheer force of will. Paris bent over his station, trying to fly by instruments which were cutting in and out. Sweat beaded on Kim's forehead as he strove to bring the damaged unit back online. Finally, a fuzzy, out-of-focus picture appeared on the screen.

A discolored blotch she believed to be the Klingon ship was hovering just off a southern continent. If the sensors were right, it was ten thousand meters above sea level. Latarran air patrols were screaming over that ocean now, heading towards the Klingon ship.

"Target them!" Janeway said impatiently.

Tuvok attempted to comply. The screen went blank again. Janeway swore, not caring who heard.

"The sensor array cannot provide a weapons lock," Tuvok said. "I will attempt a manual lock." He set about coaxing the damaged systems to provide him one more shot.

"We're being hailed by the Latarran military commander on Salim Ru," Kim reported.

"On screen," Janeway said without turning around.

The screen changed to a fuzzy, discolored Latarran. He stared at Janeway coolly.

"Captain Janeway," he said. "I am General Tholoch, commander of the military forces on Salim Ru." His words were slightly choked in static.

"Pleased to meet you," she said stonily, even though pleasure was nowhere in her mind. "I've sent coordinates to your planetary defense. You need to send everything you can to stop that ship."

General Tholoch nodded. "Everything we have is en route," he said. "Fortunately, we were allowed to keep most of our air force and planetary defense. Other colonies were not so fortunate. But, the Karnaii issue will be settled once and for all."

Janeway stopped. "What do you mean?" she asked.

General Tholoch smiled coolly. "I would have thought the Latarran High Command would have briefed you by now. Perhaps there wasn't time. After Spanos, we have decided to strike. A Latarran invasion fleet is massing as we speak, preparing to move into Karnaii space. Never again will they be allowed to hurt us as they have. We will occupy them and take away their ships. They will live directly under our rule. We've tried to be civilized, but they persist in being barbarians. So be it."

The idea of a fleet of Latarran ships was a great idea. The idea of a fleet of Latarran ships massing on the border of the Karnaii Reservation was not. They would be several hours away at warp five. Even warp seven wasn't fast enough.

"_Vor'moch _is _in your airspace _now, and the Karnaii invasion fleet is not far away," Janeway said. "You need to get everything you can here! To Salim Ru! The battle is going to be _here._"

General Tholoch appeared thoughtful. "I will notify the High Command," he said. "I will also transmit my encrypted planetary defense frequencies. Coordinate with the command ships."

"Captain!" Tuvok never shouted, but this was close.

Janeway spun, tensing. "What? Report, Mr. Tuvok."

"_Vor'moch has _just decloaked."

Janeway turned back to the screen, horror overcoming anger. The Latarran ships were still several thousand kilometers away from _Vor'moch._ Klingon ships only decloaked for one reason.

"We've only got a few minutes! Lock on and fire!" Janeway said heatedly.

"Secondary sensors are also damaged. I am attempting to compensate."

"Whatever it takes," Janeway said. "Get a lock and fire!"

* * *

This was it. The final moment.

It wasn't a happy moment. Kinsey took no pride in destruction. Some people among the crew genuinely sympathized with the Karnaii, but he didn't. They were too bloodthirsty for his tastes, too fanatical. He'd seen captured Latarran prisoners on some of the Karnaii worlds. What the Karnaii had done to them was enough to erase any sympathy to which they might have been entitled.

All he had was the grim, dank pleasure of knowing that he had proven himself reliable, even for the dirty, unpleasant tasks. Koth would know; he was a good captain. Kinsey expected no medals, simply the realization that he had done his duty. It would have to do.

"Two thousand meters to optimal firing point," Karg said.

"Ninety seconds to Latarran intercept," Barkovitch counterpointed.

"Crowley, we'll need impulse in a hurry and warp as soon as we clear the planet's gravity well."

"Starting engines now. Impulse in thirty seconds," Crowley reported, bent grimly over her screen.

"That's cutting it awfully close," Kinsey mused, eyes locked on the screen.

"I can't change the laws of physics, sir," Crowley said.

"One thousand meters to optimum firing range," Karg continued.

"Reading strange sensor activity from _Voyager. _They are...attempting manual lock," Barkovitch said. "Shall I lock disruptors?"

Kinsey shook his head. "Stand by on torpedoes. All five tubes are loaded?"

"Yes, sir," Barkovitch said.

Time weighed heavy on his hands. Seconds seemed to tick by like hours. All of it right here, right now. When this had started, he had thought to assuage his conscience by knowing that at least no one would know. But that wasn't so now. Above him was a Federation starship, and they would see what he did here today. They would know what his crew had done. This might get them home, but at what cost?

He could order all of this to an end now. Dump the baryon warhead and fly away, leaving Salim Ru untouched. At the least, the colonists would have a fighting chance against the Karnaii invaders.

Then he thought about the things he had learned on a Klingon ship. A warrior does not desert his friends. Dueling loyalties pulled at him: loyalty to a Starfleet he had almost forgotten existed, loyalty to the captain whom he had served for seven years now.

Were they Starfleet, still? Were the Klingons of _Vor'moch _still Klingons? Or were they all something else, forged into something new by years and distance and camaraderie built in the most unexpected ways?

At one word, four photon torpedoes and the baryon warhead would fly from his ship, travel halfway around the world in less than a minute, and cause devastation the like of which this planet had never known. The day of the Latarrans would end; the day of the Karnaii would begin. Would power temper Karnaii lusts for revenge? Not until millions, perhaps billions, of Latarrans were dead.

He could see some doubts on the faces of the crew, too. Crowley looked uncomfortable as she worked at the Engineering station. Karg seemed tense. Barkovitch didn't seem to let it bother him; he heard the cry of the warrior, and wanted to make sure everyone around him knew it.

"We have reached optimal firing point," Karg said.

Decision time.

If he stood down, he would lose honor among his crew. He would lose his captain's faith. He would also lose the best ticket home they had yet found. The crew would respect his position, but not him.

If he fired, he would never again be able to serve in Starfleet without wondering: _is today the day people find out? _If Janeway ever got in touch with Starfleet, or made it home, his valiant crew would be stained for life. They would be known as murderers. Possibly even sent to prison. Even if it never happened, he would force his crew to live their life on eggshells.

"Sir," Barkovitch said, "shall we fire?"

Kinsey looked around the bridge, saw the people he had lived and worked with every day. He thought about what might happen when they got home. He thought of _Voyager _watching above him. Duties pulled him both ways: duty to Starfleet, duty to _Vor'moch. _

"Sir?" Barkovitch prodded.

"Incoming torpedoes from _Voyager," _Karg added. "Evasive maneuvers, sir?"

Kinsey swallowed and wondered if he was doing the right thing, or forever forfeiting something dear and irreplaceable.

"Mr. Barkovitch," he said, and his voice trembled. Then he stopped, took a moment, and felt his throat clear. This was his captain's orders. This was what was necessary for _Vor'moch. _They couldn't stop now. He had responsibilities to his captain, and to his crew. He cleared his mind of doubts and did what he had to do.

"Mr. Barkovitch," he repeated, "_Fire." _


	16. Apocalypse

_Author's notes: _

_Well, here we are...the Moment of Truth. I'm a bit surprised how many people are rooting for the Vor'moch, but hey, I guess I did my job. This chapter has taken a bit longer; I had to decide where the story was going, and real life does have a way of getting in the way. _

_On to the individual comments..._

_Stoko: Rooting for the bad guys – always fun. _

_LibertyMaquis: Yeah, I wanted Kinsey in the captain's chair. _

_Worker72: I promised no blowing up the Klingon ship. Here you find out if your prayers were answered. _

_Darkness Takes Over (nick change, eh?) Here's where you see the aftermath._

_Saavik: Here's the consequences. (Somehow, I knew you would love Barkovitch, so there's more of him in here just for you.) _

_JadziaKathryn: Ask and ye shall receive. Yeah, I always wondered why the viewscreen never had problems. So I did it. _

_Marshpusey. Yes. Breathe. Here we have more Obsessed Janeway. _

_I should have stayed on the bridge. _

That thought kept echoing through Chakotay's mind as he sat in his quarters. The ship had taken a pounding. Yes, using the sun of Salim Ru to brake the ship had proved to work, but at what cost? Kathryn was bound and determined to take her crippled ship into battle with a fully armed and operational Klingon battleship.

_I should have stopped her. _

He thought about Kinsey, and what he had said during his interrogation. _He's my captain. I support him with the crew. That's what first officers do. We stand behind our captains._

In this case, though, he needed to stand _up _to his captain, rather than standing behind her. He understood her anger at the crew of the _Vor'moch. _Starfleet officers believed in diplomacy, in peace, and employing violence only as a last resort. Starfleet officers did not plot the use of weapons of mass destruction on colonists who hadn't done anything to warrant such an attack. That much he could understand.

That she would want vengeance against _Vor'moch _for the crimes they had already committed was understandable. _Voyager _had helped them when they had been down, and they had paid them back by sabotaging the ship and firing on them. But this had become _everything_ to her. What about the crew? What about _Voyager? _

He sat down heavily at his desk and called up the reports of the ship's systems. At least she hadn't cut off his access to those, yet. It didn't look promising. The main sensor array was cutting in and out, and wouldn't last much longer. The shields were only at twenty-five percent. They had no warp drive. They had no phasers.

For a moment, he toyed with the idea of asking the EMH to relieve Kathryn of command. She didn't seem to understand that the ship was in real danger. If the _Vor'moch _decided to return fire, they would soon be in much worse shape. Would she really lead her crew off a cliff?

He had allowed this to go on for far too long. He had to do something. But what? She would never forgive him if he got her relieved of command. For that matter, he wasn't sure she would yield command. She had just risked everyone's neck by surfing through the inside of a star and gone to war with a ship in shambles.

How far could he take it? Would he have to force her out of the command chair? The idea seemed absurd: _mutiny. _But there was a nervous, desperate voice in his mind that told him it might be the only way. Had there been mutinies in Starfleet before? He thought there had, but couldn't be sure. Was this how it started? One officer, sitting alone, worrying that his captain was going down the wrong path?

A sudden pealing alarm made him look up. He glanced at the screen on his desk. The display drew a curse from him before he realized it. What had been changing numbers and data was now just a blank screen. The four words across the lower half of the screen chilled his blood.

_MAIN SENSOR ARRAY OFFLINE _

He stared at it for several long seconds, waiting for it to come back. _Hoping _for it to come back, as if he could force it by sheer brute will alone. A sharp corkscrew of fear pierced his gut. They were _blind. _As blind as Kathryn's rage. The auxiliaries kicked on slowly, after a few tense minutes in which he lived and died a dozen times, but they were damaged too. The feeds were slow and they just didn't have the information they needed.

Five small white dots came onto the screen, and he frowned at them. What were they supposed to be? They zoomed closer in a strange and jerky way. He felt his stomach lurch. The jerkiness was obviously someone – probably Harry – manually adjusting the sensors. A few words and numbers came desultoriily onto the screen. When he realized what it was, his blood chilled again.

_Vor'moch _had fired their weapon.

Kathryn was going to go berserk. Well, even more berserk than she was already. She would destroy _Voyager _to keep those missiles from hitting their target. They couldn't go to warp in an atmosphere – some small comfort.

He had to find some way to stop her. Relieved or not, he still had a responsibility to keep the ship safe. She needed wise counsel now more than ever. If it took more than that...he'd worry about that when he had the chance.

Chakotay ran out of his quarters to the turbolift. He didn't have much time: even at low impulse, those missiles would be at their targets in a few minutes. The doors closed behind him.

"Bridge," he said.

* * *

_So, it's finally over, _Kinsey thought.

The torpedoes streaked away from _Vor'moch. _Four of them were standard photon torpedoes, designed to strike at well-armored starships. Used against a planetside target, any of them could have devastated a city block. The fifth was far deadlier, the baryon warhead on its way to devastate this planet with radiation.

He felt a sense of regret mixed with relief. Relief because it was over -- inally, irrevocably over. He had fired the weapon; _Vor'moch_'s duty to their allies was done. Regret because in so doing, he had condemned the Latarrans of Salim Ru. Those who died in the initial blast might be the fortunate ones; those who remained were not likely to thrive under Karnaii occupation.

But, at the last, it didn't involve him anymore. They were done. There were five Karnaii ships that would help them stabilize the wormhole. Tonight he might sleep on a Klingon colony planet. They'd be on Qo'nos in a few weeks. Earth, perhaps a couple of months.

The torpedoes streaked past the Latarran fighters closing in on them. A few of them turned to give chase. Kinsey wasn't too concerned about that; they wouldn't be able to keep up. Only the gravity well of the planet kept the torpedoes from going to warp. Those dinky little atmospheric craft couldn't keep up with them.

He shouldn't be relieved; it _wasn't _over. Latarran forces were still closing in and _Voyager _remained above them, for whatever good that damaged ship could do.

"Time to impact?" he asked.

Barkovitch consulted his console. "Forty-five seconds," he said.

"Impulse engines?"

"Up and running, sir," Crowley reported.

"Karg, get us out of here," he said. "Divide power between the shields and engines."

_Voyager _didn't seem to be doing anything. Was everyone aboard dead? No, the ship was still trying to correct its orbit so that it didn't go careening into the atmosphere. He guessed they had their hands full.

_Vor'moch's _engines whined as it tilted upwards and streaked out of the atmosphere. The incoming torpedoes from _Voyager _wheeled with them, maintaining lock. Kinsey frowned.

"Take us as close to _Voyager _as you can, Karg," he instructed. "If we can't lose those torpedoes, we can make them take some of the blast too."

"Weapons lock, sir?" That was Barkovitch. How could he be so eager to fire on another Starfleet vessel? Perhaps he was right, simply seeing things more clearly than Kinsey did. _Voyager _and _Vor'moch _were, effectively, enemies.

Kinsey thought. According to their sensors, _Voyager's _shields were low and she had taken heavy damage. One or two spreads of photon torpedoes would do the trick. He could seal the secret once and forever. That, however, was a line he was not going to cross. There had been enough sacrifice for one day.

"No," he said. "Get us in vacuum."

At full impulse, it took less time to accomplish that goal than to vocalize it. _Vor'moch _departed the atmosphere of Salim Ru, its deadly cargo still streaking around the planet towards the main city. The ship turned and jetted for _Voyager._

_

* * *

_

Janeway leaned forward, glaring openly at the black screen as if she could force the main sensor array back to working by sheer willpower alone. It didn't work. The screen was blank.

"Come on, _come on," _she growled. A few moments later, it flickered back to desultory life. The auxiliary sensors must have been damaged, too. Instead of showing her a visual representation of the planet below, along with the criminal ship, it simply showed a white circle and a few white blobs that were supposed to be ships.

The blob representing the _Vor'moch _suddenly gave birth to five smaller blobs and began to streak upwards, out of the atmosphere. Janeway bared her teeth and leaned forward as if she could dive into the viewscreen and grab them with her bare hands.

"No!" she shouted.

"_Vor'moch _is on an intercept course," Tuvok reported. "Torpedo lock is holding despite their evasive action." He stopped. "Captain...if _Vor'moch _fires on us, we will come off poorly in battle. Our offensive capability is severely degraded."

Janeway stared at the screen. There was the _Vor'moch, _rocketing towards them. Their tactics were clear: they intended to get close to _Voyager, _so that the Federation starship would have to take some of the blast of its own torpedoes. There were the five malevolent spawn of the _Vor'moch, _streaking through the atmosphere like the intercontinental ballistic missiles that had provided a horrific end to the Eugenics Wars. _Vor'moch _had launched.

_Vor'moch _did not matter. The baryon weapon did.

"Lay in a course through the atmosphere," she instructed. "We need to get close enough to stop those torpedoes. Target phasers."

Tuvok sounded infinitely patient, as if explaining to a child that she could not have ice cream. "Captain, we do not currently _have _phasers."

"Lay in an intercept course," she ordered. "Take us into the atmosphere. After them."

Paris didn't move to comply immediately, and she swore. Couldn't he see that every moment counted? Didn't he know what would happen if the baryon warhead reached its target? There was no time to waste.

"Mr. Paris!" she said.

Paris took a moment to reply; a moment she simply didn't have. "Cor---course laid in, captain," he stammered.

"Engage," she ordered, and grabbed the fake leather arm of her chair.

_Voyager _began to drop. _Vor'moch, _in much better shape, turned to intercept, still trying to dodge those torpedoes. For a momemt, she was tempted to order another volley. But no, she had to intercept those torpedoes in the few seconds she had before they reached their target.

_Vor'moch _wheeled so close to them that for a moment she thought the wing of the Bird-of-Prey was going to scrape the engineering hull. The torpedoes that the Klingon ship had fought to avoid exploded against its rear shields. It was close enough to rock _Voyager_ a bit, but from what she could see there was no serious damage. Were the Klingons going to fight or run? She waited a moment.

The turbolift doors opened. She spun, her muscles tensing, illogically expecting a Klingon boarding party. Instead, it was Chakotay who bounded onto the bridge. She scowled. Was _everyone _on this ship going to ignore her orders?

"Mr. Chakotay," she said icily, "you have been relieved of duty."

"Think about what you're doing," he said breathlessly. "We can't win this one. It's over."

"I'm not giving up," she said stubbornly. "Get off my bridge. Mr. Paris, take us down."

Alarms pealed as the Klingon ship fired. The helm sparked a few times and fell silent. The ship shuddered, and there was a massive _boom _that shook through the frame, felt rather than heard.

"Shields are down," Tuvok said implacably. "Raising them now."

"Impulse engines are offline," Paris said.

Janeway bared her teeth helplessly. "We've got thrusters. Take us _down." _

It was a long shot; they'd have to get close enough to shoot down the baryon warhead, and they'd have to guess which one was the right one. A long shot, but it was the only shot she had.

Yet before the battered ship could make its way through the atmosphere, the five dots that were all the auxiliary sensors could manage disappeared. Replacing them was an expanding white circle, growing over the main city of Salim Ru like a cancer. _Voyager _reeled and spun.

Tuvok consulted his instruments, his face carved out of stone. He glanced up from them at her.

"Reading a massive radiation wave," he said. "The baryon warhead has detonated."

Kathryn Janeway sank into her chair with a sickened look on her face. All that devastation. Everything she'd tried to do, everything her crew had objected to, all of it was to present this. The sight of the spreading white circle was a worse punishment than any Starfleet court-martial could have ever handed down.

"Hail the Latarrans," she said, her throat tight.

Harry tried to comply, but shook his head. An unpleasant shriek of feedback made everyone on the bridge cringe. Then the speakers fell silent. For a moment she recalled the Spanos general's words: _thrown back to the Stone Age. _No weapons, no communications, no power, nothing but nonfunctional equipment and screaming, dying people.

_Vor'moch _gained the blackness of space, and without a hail or a taunt leaped to warp, streaking away under the beautiful miracle of warp drive. Its image shimmered and vanished from their sensors.

Janeway stared at the screen, tasting the bitterness of defeat, and looked around at her crew.

"Back us off," she said. "Get this ship functional. Mr. Tuvok, you have the conn."

* * *

"Status," Kinsey said, watching the damaged starship recede in the distance.

Crowley peered down at her screen. "All systems nominal. Only minor damage to the hull. Cloak is online and engaged."

"Distance to the wormhole?" Kinsey asked.

"Five light-years," Karg said.

Kinsey nodded. "Lay in a course. Warp eight. Maintain cloak."

"Acknowledged," Karg ssaid.

The irascible tone of their doctor spoke. "Sickbay to Bridge."

"Bridge here," Kinsey said.

"Captain Koth is going to be all right," the doctor said. "He'll be up and about in a few hours."

Kinsey smiled. The news had an immediate effect on the crew; they brightened, glad to have something to celebrate. There'd be plenty more to celebrate too. Now if they could just forget that the last few hours had ever happened.

"Sir," Sayba said, "_Voyager _is moving away from the planet. Under thrusters."

Kinsey thought. "On screen," he said reflectively.

The damaged starship was indeed moving away, one warp nacelle flickering. He pondered his options. Why go back? _Voyager _couldn't hold off the Karnaii invasion fleet, not in that condition. Barkovitch would want to shoot it down, but Kinsey didn't want to add murder of Starfleet officers to what he had done today.

Go back and help? Not likely; they weren't likely to do anything other than shoot back or self-destruct. He was mindful of the psychological toll on his crew; particularly the Starfleeters.

He shook his head. "Maintain course."

"They're damaged," Barkovitch said hopefully.

"Duly noted, Mr. Barkovitch. Maintain course and heading. Send an encrypted message to the Karnaii, advising them that the baryon warhead was deployed at 0700 hours local time, and they will be able to invade as soon as the radiation levels drop. Let them know we are en route to the wormhole, and we expect their support fleet there."

"What happens to _Voyager?" _Crowley asked.

Kinsey shrugged. "Their fate is in their own hands."

_Vor'moch _streaked out of the solar system, heading towards its way home.


	17. Loss

_Author's note: _

_Took me a bit to get this chapter out. Lots of plot bunnies around my Fic folder lately. So far, people want to see more Equinox, with the loony Q. I'm also toying with another Equinox-based fic, one which is a lot darker than 'Prodigal Daughter' -- instead of redemption, you've got the Equinox and Maquis crew in an uneasy alliance.  
_

_Bren: Welcome back. Glad you liked it. _

_Marshpusey: Thanks. The personality parts are fun to get into. _

_LibertyMaquis: Oh, there is still a bit left to tell._

_Stoko: Yeah, rooting for the bad guys is fun. _

_ H-bomb: Thanks. Here's more. _

_Worker72: Yeah, Janeway's going to settle down just a bit..._

_Darkness Takes Over: Yeah, Janeway likes the rulebook. Glad you like the fic. _

_JadziaKathryn: There'll be more Barkovitch to come; he does make a neat villain. _

_And on with the show... _

She had lost.

Janeway's ship was healing. B'Elanna Torres and her engineers could repair _Voyager's _sabotaged and damaged systems. They had limped away to the other side of the sun of Salim Ru, where they might be able to hail the Latarrans and inform them. This had been done; she had issued the report herself. It didn't change much of anything, since the Latarrans did not have any appreciable forces near Salim Ru.

Once _Voyager _was in better shape, she intended to see what could be done. For now, she had to trust in her staff to get the ship set to rights. The ship could be repaired. She was not so lucky.

_Lost. Lost. I lost. _Those words kept echoing in her mind. But it wasn't just Kathryn Janeway who had lost. The morals of Starfleet had lost today. Free people had lost today. Whatever the Latarrans might have done to the Karnaii, they did not deserve _this. _

She'd have to face her crew eventually. Her readyroom had been a refuge, but only for so long. Chakotay had disobeyed her; the rest had clearly had reservations about obeying her orders. That amazed her. They'd followed her unquestioningly for so long. How could they turn on her now?

She'd retreated here to direct the efforts of her crew. Here, she could quietly think and avoid all the pressure of everyone around her. It was a valuable escape, and it gave her time to stop and think.

How many times in her life had she failed? Not very often. She had always been a go-getter. She'd always found a way to prevail. Loss tasted bitter, and she didn't like it.

She would find a way. This wasn't over. Not by far. No matter what it took, the crew of the _Vor'moch _would one day answer for what they had done.

But not today.

Everything seemed to echo her defeat. The screen on her desk showed damage reports – damage caused by the _Vor'moch. _The couch reminded her that Kinsey and Koth had sat there, drinking coffee neat as you please, all the while planning this horrific attack. Out the window lay the wounded world she had failed to protect. It was galling and infuriating, and it was completely inescapable.

"This is _not _over," she whispered fiercely into her coffee mug, and then stopped. Talking to herself? Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

A sudden pleasant electronic melody sounded, and she glanced down at her screen. Numbers crawled up it in quick succession – some testing subroutine – and then four words scrolled across it.

_MAIN SENSOR ARRAY ONLINE _

Finally, some good news.

She had ties to mend with her crew, and perhaps this was a good place to start. She took a final pull at her coffee mug to fortify herself, gathered her courage for a moment, and strode out of her readyroom towards the bridge.

Her acknowledgment was a crisp "Captain on the bridge!" from Tuvok. The officers manning the stations snapped to a quick attention.

"As you were," Janeway said pleasantly. "I see we've got sensors back. Any report from Engineering?"

Harry Kim shook his head. "Nothing new, captain. Warp drive in nine hours, when the inertial dampers come back online."

She nodded. "Bridge to Chakotay," she said firmly.

"Chakotay here," he responded.

"Mr. Chakotay, please join us on the bridge."

"On my way," he said neutrally. She thought about that for a moment. Was it good or bad? She'd have to see. Only time would tell. In the meantime, she had to find something constructive, something she could _do. _It would keep her mind off the nagging defeat she had suffered.

"Bridge to Engineering," she continued.

"Engineering here," Torres replied.

"When will we be able to offer assistance to Salim Ru?"

There was a moment's pause. "We've got shields and weapons," Torres said cautiously. "Warp drive will need a while longer."

Janeway considered. She could keep the ship out of a slugging match, but with Latarran reinforcement a few days away, _Voyager _was the only ship that could offer any sort of assistance to the colonists. She settled back in her command chair and made her decision. Time to fix what she could.

The doors opened to admit Chakotay, who eyed her warily. She smiled tightly at him. Neither one spoke.

"Set a course for Salim Ru," she told Paris. "Full impulse."

_Voyager's _engines sounded much better than they had before, and the starship flew straight and true for the wounded planet. They curved around the sun, not eager to spend any more time _there _than they had to. The first planet was quite close to the sun, and they passed it with little resistance. They were just coming up on the second one when she realized what had happened.

The skies of Salim Ru bristled with starships. There were some large, bulky ones that were clearly troopships: their heavy shielding and weapons, along with their low orbits, made their purpose clear. Other craft were smaller and sleeker, flying in tight formation over the wounded land. Occasionally, they would swoop low and fire their Klingon disruptors at something on the land.

None of the ships were Latarran. They were Karnaii.

While _Voyager _had made repairs, the invasion had _already _taken place. Salim Ru was in Karnaii hands. Kathryn Janeway felt that small spark of hope die, snuffed out as easily as a candle.

"We're too late," she managed in a choked whisper.

If it troubled Tuvok, he didn't show it. "We are being hailed by the Karnaii flagship," he announced.

Janeway swallowed. "On screen," she said.

The starfield flickered into the smug, pleased face of Admiral Rhoden. He smirked at her for a few moments in proud silence, then spoke.

"This is Admiral Rhoden, Karnaii military governor of Salim Ru," he said, his tone rich with self-satisfaction. "I must advise you that Salim Ru is off limits to Latarran and Latarran-allied ships. I therefore order you to withdraw."

"Wait," Janeway said. There had to be at least three hundred ships orbiting that planet; the Karnaii had put everything they had into this invasion plan. It didn't match, either. The original blast had been over four days. How could they be in control so quickly? "I want to negotiate."

Rhoden lifted a slab of meat on a silver fork and chewed at it delicately with his long teeth, exulting in his newfound affluence. "There is nothing _to _negotiate, Captain Janeway. You fired on us once. _Voyager _is not welcome in sovereign Karnaii territory. You shall not get off the first shot again. Leave."

"Captain," Tuvok said, "sixty-four Karnaii ships are moving to intercept. This is a battle we cannot win."

Chakotay simply gave her a distant, appraising look. She could tell what he was thinking: _Is she going to risk the ship and crew for this vendetta? _

"Admiral Rhoden, please," Janeway said. "I want to know the status of the Latarran colonists."

Rhoden seemed quite pleased with himself, grooming his whiskers delicately. "All Latarran prisoners are currently being processed. Some of them are war criminals, you know. We will hold trials for them shortly."

The Karnaii ships moved closer. She didn't need Tuvok to tell her that whatever planetary defenses were functional would be locking on _Voyager _now. She couldn't win against such a massive fleet.

For a moment, Kathryn Janeway closed her eyes and let a bright, black spike of hate for the crew of the _Vor'moch _run through her.

"Captain Janeway," Rhoden said, "withdraw or you will be fired upon."

The Karnaii fleet was made up of small, rattletrap ships, but there were a _lot _of them, all bearing down on one _Intrepid_-class starship. Before, she might have ordered _Voyager _into battle, but not now. Not without warp drive.

Already, her mind was spinning through possibilities. She needed to buy time for _Voyager _to finish its repairs and be back in fighting trim. There had to be something, some way to solve this. Some way to lift the stain of her defeat. But arguing with this militant little sociopath would not accomplish her goals.

"Turn us about," she said, and the words tasted like ashes in her mouth. "Set a course for Latarran space, full impulse."

_Lost, _she thought as the starship wheeled and began the trip back. She'd need to get within hailing range of the Latarrans; they didn't have all the kinks worked out of their subspace radio. Then she would have to figure out what to do. But still the thought kept dancing and mocking in the back of her mind, no matter how she wanted to evict it.

_Lost. I lost. We've lost._

_

* * *

_

There was an unpleasant feeling of being divided between two places on _Vor'moch. _They had done what they had to do; their reward lay ahead. In between lay a space of a few tense, glassy hours.

The senior crew was gathered in the briefing room. Koth sat at the end of the table, wordlessly showing by his very presence that he was all right. The air was mixed. Some officers, like Karg and Barkovitch, were exuberant. They had met on the field of honor, and they had won. They were going home. Others held a more somber air, perhaps reflecting on the price they had paid.

Cups of _raktajino _were allowed in the briefing room, and the fragrant aroma filled the air. At first, no one spoke. Koth cleared his throat.

"You have all performed admirably," he said. "This was not an easy task, yet you came through and did what needed to be done. I am proud of all of you."

Kinsey stood up and walked over to the viewscreen. "It's not over yet," he began. "We're three hours away from the wormhole. The Karnaii support fleet is there. They're eager to get us home and get to Salim Ru." He let his gaze fall on Crowley, sitting in the middle of the table. "Srask is there; he's the best the Karnaii have. Crowley, you'll need to work with him to get the wormhole stabilized."

Crowley looked at him with ashen eyes. "Aye, sir," she said shortly, and returned to staring into the depths of her mug.

"Our cloak is stable. We're the fastest ship in the sector right now. It's all going to work out." He smiled. A panel emitted a quick _beep-beep _and he turned to look at it. Words spilled over the screen. He smiled again and turned back to the crew.

"We've been hailed by the Karnaii flagship," he said. "After one hundred years, Salim Ru is in Karnaii hands again. So that's something to feel good about."

It had the cardboard feel of a lie in his mouth even as he said it. He didn't feel terribly attached to the Karnaii; they were overly dramatic and poisoned by their own hatred. But none of that mattered anymore; he'd done the job and they were going to be out of here.

Koth rose and stood beside him. "That is all," he said. "Tonight we will all drink bloodwine. Dismissed."

Everyone filed slowly from the room, except for Crowley. Kinsey tilted his head and looked at her.

"Problem?" he asked, although he knew what it was.

"Problem?" she repeated. "Sir...the Klingons don't really understand. But you would."

He smiled miserably. "Actually, they do. What happened today...wasn't something the Klingons at home would understand."

She shrugged and looked blank with horror, as if she had been on the surface of Salim Ru when the warhead went off. "We're Starfleet officers," she said. "Or we were. How are we supposed to...what if _Voyager _gets home too...how do we...how do we live after this?"

He reached forward and patted her shoulder, trying to offer her some comfort. He didn't have any himself. He knew exactly what she was talking about, even strangled and inarticulate as she might be.

"I don't know," he said. "We'll find a way. We have to. We fought too hard for this. We gave up our ship...years of our lives...we did what had to be done."

Her eyes seemed frighteningly empty as they lashed across his face.

"We lost something today," she said. "And I don't know if we can ever get it back."

Kinsey looked around the interior of this Klingon battle cruiser and sighed.

"I know," he said. It was he had to offer.

* * *

It had taken hours to do what they normally could have done in a few minutes. It galled her. The air on the bridge was no longer tense but bleak. They had lost. 

But it wasn't over yet. There still had to be some way that she could salvage something from this. She was waiting for the magic words from Harry, and finally she heard them.

"We're within hailing range of a Latarran colony," he reported.

"Hail them," Janeway ordered.

A moment later, the figure of a Latarran officer was on screen. Colonel or general, if she read their ranks right.

"This is General Thoran," he said simply, staring implacably at her.

Janeway nodded. "This is Captain Janeway of the _USS Voyager. _I am sad to report that the colony at Salim Ru was attacked. It is currently under Karnaii occupation. I reported the attack before, but I don't know if you were told."

Thoran sighed. He seemed disappointed but not surprised. "Those Karnaii animals," he said. "I shall inform my government."

She expected more, and tilted her head in puzzlement. "Surely you'll want to divert your forces to Salim Ru," she suggested.

Thoran shook his head. "I suppose no one informed you, Captain," he said coolly. "We will be carrying out a counterstrike within the Karnaii Reservation."

Janeway swallowed. The Latarrans had every right to self-defense, after what they had suffered. Yet all the same, she could see what would happen. There were still Latarran hostages on Salim Ru, and a bloody cycle of vengeance would kick into high gear.

The general glanced down at something. "Ah, yes. There is a question for you from our government."

She nodded slowly. "Of course."

"The _Vor'moch _has provided the Karnaii with advanced technology," Thoran said. "On behalf of my government, we ask you to do the same. Your sensor technology is far beyond ours. Will you share that technology with us? In return, I am authorized to offer _Voyager _priority status for repairs at one of our spacedocks."

Janeway stopped. "We have specific laws about sharing technology with races that are not ready for it," she hedged.

Thoran's face darkened. "Yet _Vor'moch _freely gave killers and terrorists access to deadly weapons," he protested.

"Illegally," Janeway said. "I'm willing to work out a tactical alliance, but you must understand. Our law--,"

"Your law would put millions of lives at risk," Thoran pointed out. "We _need _that technology. To restore the balance."

Janeway stopped. What were the rules here? She wasn't entirely sure. The Prime Directive said that the Latarrans and Karnaii would have to fight it out themselves. But the Karnaii already had a potentially devastating advantage over their enemies, one they should never have had. Providing the Latarrans with advanced sensors and weapons would at least mitigate that ill-gotten advantage. Besides, they were facing a potential holocaust.

Yet if she did that, she would be transgressing the Prime Directive herself. She and her crew would be no better than the crew of _Vor'moch _in the eyes of the law. She'd already taken sides in the war, as Tuvok had reminded her. It was a little late to claim neutrality.

"I'll need some time," Janeway hedged. "I need to consult our databases, find out what, if anything, I'm authorized to give you--,"

Thoran shook his head. "I do not have time to spare, Captain Janeway. The strike is planned in a few hours. If you will not help us then you will not help us. I had hoped for better from an ally. The Karnaii asked for a war and they have it." He smiled coldly, his eyes icy.

"If you wish to save lives, then give us the technology we need," he said. "Otherwise, I must ask you to leave Latarran space. We are in a war for our very lives, and we must act accordingly. The crimes of the Karnaii will no longer be tolerated."

A chill ran down Janeway's spine. "You don't mean--," she said.

Thoran nodded slowly. "Yes, I do," he said. "Please understand, we're civilized people. We didn't want to do this. But with the new weapons that the Karnaii have, they will destroy us. If you won't help us, we have only one way to be safe: to completely eradicate the Karnaii from the universe."


	18. Hard Choices

_Author's notes: _

_Writer's block, gotta love it. (Well, actually, I don't, but that's what held this chapter up.) _

_H-bomb: Glad you liked Prodigal Daughter. So far people want to see more Equinox-based stuff. (And of course, I've come up with more plot bunnies – perhaps an Equinox-based Enterprise crossover, believe it or not.) _

_Worker72: My, you want a rather bloody ending. We'll see what turns out. _

_Marshpusey: Glad you liked it. Yeah, the idea is that it isn't black and white; more fun with shades of gray. _

_JadziaKathryn: Yeah, Janeway doesn't have it too easy. Rhoden was supposed to be hatable – a smug leader. _

_Saavik: Yeah, Janeway lost this one. Barkovitch fan, eh? _

_Darkness Takes Over: Yep, seeing Losing Janeway was something I thought would be interesting to look at. _

The wormhole was savage, yet beautiful in a way. Most of the crew had seen the Bajoran wormhole near Deep Space Nine. This one was far more random and active. Tentacles of multicolored energy and plasma streamed from it, lashing out as if it were sentient, seeking to strike asteroids that it drew slowly towards it. It looked like a hungry maw, eager to devour anything that came near it. No one on the bridge of _Vor'moch _could not be amazed by the sight. This was it. Their way home.

Five Karnaii ships orbited the wormhole, far enough away to avoid being sucked into its depths. The Karnaii had a long way to go before they could engineer ships that could stand its stresses. Fortunately, _Vor'moch _could.

The briefing room was full of Karnaii and _Vor'moch _engineers. Crowley stood at the screen, running the briefing. Srask and his people were down one side; her own people, Starfleet and Klingon, on the other.

"Right," Crowley said. "Stabilizing a wormhole isn't too hard. What you'll need to do is all put out a theta wave at the same time. _Vor'moch _will serve as the linchpin; the rest of you just need to synch with us."

Srask nodded. "We will need a few hours to reconfigure our disruptors," he said.

"Of course," Crowley replied. "Keep in contact with _Vor'moch, _and everything will be right."

Those next few hours were extremely tense on both _Vor'moch _and the Karnaii ships. The Karnaii were eager to set foot on a Salim Ru under Karnaii sovereignty; the crew of the Klingon ship wanted to get through the wormhole and on their way home.

It was a tense and busy time; the Karnaii ships rearranged their rickety weapons to emit the required theta wave. _Vor'moch _plotted the wormhole's terminal end: it would shift from Klingon signals to Kazon to nothing, and then back again.

Finally, it was ready. The Karnaii ships assumed positions as close as they could get to the wormhole. _Vor'moch's _command crew assembled on their bridge, and the mighty starship jetted into position for its final approach vector. Koth settled his bulky body into the comand chair, Kinsey straight and true standing beside him.

"We've only got a two-second margin for error," Crowley reported.

Koth grunted. "Then we shall not err," he said. "Raise shields. Full impulse, bearing two sixty-three mark two."

"Acknowledged," Karg said.

"Reading Klingon signals," Barkovitch said. "Standard colonial news broadcast."

"The second Karnaii ship's signal is cutting out," Kormack said, bent over his console. Without replying, Crowley's fingers flew over her own, sending a sharply worded reprimand to the errant ship.

"They're back," she said a moment later.

Koth's crew was skilled, and they knew their jobs. The necessity of the next few minutes pushed aside whatever guilt they might carry Each officer manned their station stolidly. Only Koth and Kinsey stared ahead at the seething, angry wormhole that was their final gamble. If they messed this up, they'd end up back at square one, fighting the Kazon. If they did it right, they'd all be home.

"Range?" Koth said.

"Five thousand kilometers," Barkovitch replied instantly.

"Time to entry?" Koth continued.

"Thirty seconds," Karg said.

Tension weighed heavy on the bridge, making fingers jitter and hearts hope. Their lives had already changed irretrievably in the past few days. Now, their lives would change again – either way – in the next few seconds. This was it. Their last card was about to go face up.

_If the Karnaii turn now and flee, I will destroy them all, _Koth thought fleetingly.

But they didn't turn and flee. They remained in position, obeying the commands emitting from Crowley's Engineering station.

"One thousand meters," Barkovitch said.

Koth watched for a few more scant seconds. Koth looked over to Sayba and nodded. "Hail the Karnaii and begin transferring all of our data on the exotic baryon warhead," he instructed.

"Transmitting," Sayba grunted in reply. A _bleep-bleep _signified that the data transmission was over.

The data transmission traveled through space only a few hundred thousand kilometers to Srask's command ship. The engineer occupied the command chair; he commanded this mission. He glanced over to watch his comm officer download and extract it.

"Data transfer is complete," the comm officer squeaked. "The baryon warhead is ours." He sounded quite pleased with himself.

Srask was not so pleased. He was an engineer; he took greater pleasure in building rather than destroying. He knew the Latarrans were enemies of his people. He supposed that he would be ordered to build more baryon warheads, but there was no pleasure in that. The Latarrans would need to learn, yes. They would need to give up Salim Ru and adjust to the new circumstances in the region. Still, Srask had no desire to commit genocide against them.

No, what Srask wanted to do was right before him. The majestic form of the Bird of Prey before him was a far worthier dream. It could travel at warp nine, a speed unimaginable by Karnaii standards. That one ship had the power to take out an entire Latarran squadron. That one ship had fought the entire planetary defenses of Spanos and Salim Ru and won. That one ship had turned the tide of the war. Srask wanted to build Karnaii ships like that.

He had given them back their shuttle, but not without scanning it. The cloaking device on the shuttle was far advanced beyond the model that _Vor'moch _had given to the Karnaii. At first, that had angered him. Then he had realized that the Karnaii could not duplicate the advanced cloaking device. _Vor'moch _had given them ones they could duplicate. But they had the scans. Soon enough, they would be producing superior cloaking devices of their own.

Soon, they would produce starships of their own. That was where his heart lay.

"They're hailing us," his comm officer said suddenly.

Srask looked up, alarmed. Everything looked all right, from his sensors. "On screen," he said.

The viewscreen flickered to reveal the bridge of the _Vor'moch. _Koth stood up and eyed him carefully. He thumped a first against his chest.

"Survive and succeed, Srask," he said. "_Qapla." _

Srask blinked his dark black eyes, not sure what the Klingon word meant. "_Qapla," _he repeated.

As the Klingon ship plunged into the wormhole, barely a spot against the bright multicolored light, Srask watched. This was a day that would be remembered in his people's history for years to come, perhaps eons.

Then, as quickly as that, they were gone.

"_Vor'moch _is through the wormhole," his ops officer said.

"Can we tell if they made it home?" he asked.

The ops officer fumbled at his comm panel. "I cannot tell," he reported mournfully.

That didn't surprise Srask. Karnaii sensors were not the best. This wormhole had existed in their space for as long as they'd had spaceflight, and they couldn't even begin to use it.

_Some day, _Srask thought. _Some day, I will design a Karnaii starship and travel through that wormhole, and I will see my friends myself._

But that day would not be today. He was needed on Salim Ru to get the planetary defense grid on-line. He sighed and gave the wormhole one last look.

"Raise cloak," he ordered. "Set a course for Salim Ru."

* * *

_I have to find a way to salvage something. _

Kathryn Janeway didn't like losing, and the fact that _Vor'moch _had beaten her nagged at her still. She had hoped it might fade away, but it didn't.

All the same, she had to deal with the situation at hand and play the cards she had been dealt. The Latarran request for advanced technology was the biggest thing on the agenda right now. It was a difficult question, and she wanted to see what her senior officers thought. It wasn't lost on her that she might have frittered away that bond in her attempts to set things right.

The air in the conference room was tense and reserved. All of the command crew seemed to be reserved, holding her at arm's length. She wondered what they were thinking. _She just threw the ship into a star and ordered us into battle when we were crippled. What now? _

She cleared her throat. This, at least, would go by the book. It might be a small olive branch, but it was necessary. With her crew she was a captain; without them she was a woman with four dots on her collar.

"Good morning," she said crisply. "As we all know, Salim Ru was...attacked and is currently under Karnaii occupation. We have received a request from the Latarrans for advanced sensor technology to counter the Karnaii cloaking devices. In return, they have offered us priority status at a Latarran spacedock."

B'Elanna nodded slowly. "We could use some time in a friendly spacedock," she commented wryly.

Chakotay looked thoughtful and wary at the same time. "Are you going to give it to them?" he asked.

Janeway stopped. How to get the point across without looking weak or vacillating? "I haven't made a decision yet," she hedged. "I wanted to...hear some thoughts. This brushes up against the Prime Directive."

Tuvok gave her a look that suggested some approval – at least as much as anyone could ever get out of Tuvok.

"Technically," he said, "this situation does not involve the Prime Directive. The Prime Directive applies to pre-warp cultures. The Latarrans and the Karnaii both have warp drive."

"That's true," Janeway said. "But the issues are still there. When the Prime Directive was first written, all warp-capable races were at a more or less equal level. You either had warp or you didn't. Things are different now. The Latarrans and the Karnaii both have warp drive, but their technology is not as advanced as either ours or...or the Klingons. Looking at their sensors, I'd say we'd be giving them a boost of about a hundred years. That's pretty substantial."

Tuvok nodded. "An excellent point," he said. "Providing technology advanced by a century might have effects as catastrophic as those the Prime Directive was meant to avoid."

Harry spoke up. "Well, can we deliver? We don't even know if we _can _detect cloaked Karnaii ships. Our sensors are pretty beat up."

Tom chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. "If we don't give it to them, then the Karnaii are going to go on a rampage," he said. "Let's give them a chance to fight back. We'd just be restoring the balance to something like what it was before. Besides, didn't they threaten to wipe out the Karnaii if they didn't get it?"

Tuvok eyed the helmsman coolly across the table. "It is likely that hostilities will incur between the two races regardless of what _Voyager _does. We cannot allow one race to use the threat of genocide to essentially extort technology from us. Likewise, while a Latarran attempt at genocide is regrettable, it is not our concern."

Tom stared back at him, not flinching. "And a Karnaii genocide is preferable?"

"Reacting emotionally to this situation is not wise, Lieutenant," Tuvok admonished. "While the situation is regrettable, Starfleet protocol is quite clear. While it is true that the balance has been upset by external forces, the most logical move is for us to stick to the letter of the law."

"The letter of the law doesn't account for the fact that we're already involved, and otherwise, _millions _of people are going to die," Tom argued. "Noninterference is all well and good, except there's already been interference. Let's give them a fighting chance."

Janeway exhaled. She'd hoped for some consensus. Something she could build on. But while Tuvok's decision was the correct thing to do according to Starfleet regulations, she wasn't sure. Leaving things as they were could result in Karnaii devastation; helping the Latarrans might have aftereffects that could remain for years, perhaps decades, after _Voyager _left. Was this meeting going to get anywhere? Probably not. Tuvok wouldn't bend, and neither would Tom.

The stalemate was only broken by the twittering of her combadge. "Bridge to Captain Janeway."

Janeway paused. "Go ahead, Mr. Ayala."

"Sensors are detecting a cloud of tetryon particles. It's consistent with a cloaked ship. Or ships, we're not sure yet."

"Is it the _Vor'moch_?" she asked.

"We're not sure, but we doubt it. It's several small areas, spaced out. Might be a cloaked Karnaii fleet."

Janeway sighed. "On our way." She addressed the command crew next.

"We'll have to table this for now," she said. "I'd hoped for some consensus, but this is...obviously a thorny issue. Let's see what we can find about this cloaked ship."

There was still some simmering tension in the air as the crew filed out to take their positions on the bridge. She still hadn't gotten any further on making a decision. Ultimately, the decision was hers: she could seek the advice of her officers, but the final decision lay in her hands. She'd been doing it a long time, but still it was a heavy weight to carry. She could only put it off for so long.

_There's got to be a way to salvage this situation, _she thought. _I just have to find out how. _


	19. Aftermath

_Author's note: _

_I haven't forgotten this story – real life has been in the way. Work keeps me busy, my kids keep me busy, that sort of thing. Also approximately eight milliom little plot bunnies keep hopping into my head and distracting me from the story. (Oddly, the Equinox-Maquis alliance idea is currently in the lead, althought that is a much darker story in which everybody doesn't exactly like each other and nobody comes off as super heroic – rather like the Equinox show itself.) Plus I had to figure out what would happen next. So, here's another chapter. _

_Chris A – haven't left this one behind yet. _

_Saavik – Glad you liked Srask's desire for something other than bloodshed. Just for you, Barkovitch returns in this chapter. _

_Bren – which idea are you referring to? Yeah, not everyone is rooting for Vor'moch. _

_Worker72 – How could I do that? Well, sometimes evil pays. Sometimes the bad guys win. Sometimes, one never knows, people don't listen to cooler heads and you may get your Delta Quadrant Armageddon wish. _

_Marshpusey – Yeah, Writers block is hard for us writers too you know. _

_Stoko: You have some good points, but the Prime Directive says no to any sort of advanced technology transfer. _

_JadziaKathryn: No, this isn't the last of the Vor'moch. _

_Darkness Takes Over: Here's where you find the answer to your question._

The viewscreen showed only a starfield. They couldn't see the Karnaii ships, although sensors were definitely detecting something. There were faint blobs of energy in some places, hidden against the blackness of space. They could have been gaseous clouds, or energy phenomena, or even just sensor ghosts. But they weren't. Somehow, she just knew it.

Janeway stared out at the tiny, faint outlines. "They're out there," she said reflectively.

"Captain?" Tuvok asked.

Janeway straightened in her chair and drew herself up. "Mr. Tuvok, we know that the Karnaii possess outdated cloaking technology. Adjust the sensors and see if we can compensate for it. They're out there." She pointed at the viewscreen.

"The most strategically valuable location for any Karnaii vessel would be either defending their starport in the Karnaii Reservation or in orbit of Salim Ru. They have no reason to be passing through this area of space," Tuvok pointed out. "While it is possible that these readings indicate a Karnaii fleet, there are many other explanations. Our sensor array has recently been heavily damaged."

"They're out there," Janeway repeated. "Adjust the sensors."

It took a few minutes to adjust the sensors, but they didn't provide any definitive proof. Janeway scowled.

"Open a channel," she directed.

Tuvok did so without a word.

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager,_" she recited. "We have you on sensors. Our intentions are merely to negotiate for the Latarrans on Salim Ru. Lower your cloak, and no harm will come to you."

A few seconds passed. Nothing happened. She stared tautly at the viewscreen, waiting for something, anything to happen. Her fingernails pressed half-moons into the palms of her hands. No one spoke.

Harry broke the silence. "Incoming hail. Audio only."

"Let's have it," Janeway said, gesturing upwards at the speakers.

The voice was Karnaii. The universal translator did not change the squeaky, high-pitched voice.

"We do not have authority to negotiate for the Latarran prisoners," the voice said. "Those inquiries must be addressed to Admiral Rhoden, the military governor of Salim Ru."

Janeway grinned tightly. She had been correct. "We'd still like to talk," she said reflectively. "Latarran ships may be monitoring us. If you lower your cloak now and begin negotiations, I promise you that we will not permit the Latarrans to fire on you. You'll be allowed to go about your business. If you refuse...then I can't be held responsible."

There was a pause while the unseen commander pondered his options. Janeway kept a close eye on those barely visible blobs on the viewscreen. A few of them appeared to be attempting to sidle away.

"Harry," she said in a hushed tone. "I want you to quietly hail the Latarrans. Advise them that I've made a decision. Try and keep it in an upper band of the Latarran military frequencies; if we're lucky, they won't notice it."

Harry nodded and worked his panel with deft fingers. A signal lit up on his board that he hadn't caused and he frowned at it.

"Incoming reply," he said tersely, keying it on the bridge speakers without needing to be told.

"I do not have authority to speak for the Karnaii Defense Organization," the voice said dubiously. "There is no point to negotiation."

A few of her bridge crew were giving her equally dubious looks. Janeway sighed.

"Yes, there is," she said. "There are Latarrans on Salim Ru. Their status is unclear. Lower your cloak. You won't be harmed."

On the viewscreen, one ship decloaked, shimmering into view. Four of the other barely-visible blobs jumped out of the screen entirely.

"Four of the five Karnaii ships have gone to warp," Tuvok said behind her. "From their heading, they are most likely en route to Salim Ru."

Janeway scowled. "Let them go," she instructed. "We've got one. Hail him. Let's see if he'll show his face."

The screen flickered to reveal a Karnaii captain, looking at her warily. His fur patterns looked a little familiar. She realized it only a second before he said it.

"This is Captain Kreech," he said cautiously. "What do you want?"

"Just to negotiate," Janeway answered. "I'd like you to come aboard _Voyager. _All we want is to talk."

Kreech made a dramatic gesture with one hand. "There is no point in talking with Latarrans or Latarran lackeys," he said. "There is nothing to negotiate. So be it. I am a soldier of the Karnaii, and I will die for my people to be free."

Janeway sighed and fought the suddenly strong urge to put her face in her hands. "I don't want your life," she informed him. "All we want is a few hours of your time."

Kreech looked dubious. So did her bridge crew. Yet he knew what she did: his ship was no match for _Voyager, _and when the Latarrans arrived, it would be only Kathryn Janeway's word that protected him from being blown to smithereens.

"I shall consider your proposal," he said dubiously, and cut the connection.

Janeway nodded once, not letting it bother her. "Harry? How about that Latarran contact?"

Kim glanced up from his console. "I've got them."

"On screen," she said.

The screen resolved into a Latarran general – Tholoch, she believed -- looking impassively at her where only a few minutes ago a Karnaii captain had been. That, at least, they had in common.

"Captain Janeway," he said in sonorous tones. "I take it you have made a decision?"

Janeway nodded. "I have," she said archly, and cleared her throat.

"I've decided to give you the sensor technology," she continued.

General Tholoch smiled and nodded. "I shall alert the nearest Latarran starbase to make a slot for _Voyager, _so that you may continue repairs."

Janeway let him hang a beat. "There is one condition."

Tholoch gave her a look that said _we are not amused. _

"What is it?" he asked.

She gestured. "As you know from your sensor readings, there is a Karnaii ship near my own," she said. "I have promised its captain his safety. The condition is that I want you to meet with him and prepare a proposal to liberate the Latarran prisoners on Salim Ru."

Captain Kathryn Janeway was well aware that her crew feared the skunk eye she levelled at errant crewmen. Most crew, if asked, would have preferred being phasered to getting it. She wasn't accustomed to being on the receiving end. Tholoch seemed thunderstruck at the very idea. He was silent for several moments.

"_What?" _he asked. "Have you lost your mind?" His face colored and his lips skinned back, displaying his teeth.

"Not at all," Janeway said quickly. "There are Latarran prisoners on Salim Ru. Surely you can put aside your differences long enough to assure their safety."

He shook his head. "Meet with _them? _After they attack our planets? Kill our people? Never."

Janeway stared him down, steely-eyed and resolute.

"You'll have to do it if you want the advanced sensor technology I can provide," she returned.

Tholoch appeared as dubious as Kreech had. "I shall...inform the High Command, but I doubt they will be amenable to negotiation with Karnaii animals."

The screen flicked back to a starfield. Chakotay glanced over at her, saying what the entire crew was thinking.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked. "We can't stop them from going to war. They're _at _war."

Janeway sighed. "I know. But _Vor'moch's _crime was in what they did – they altered the balance of the war, then flew off with nary a thought for what they left behind. We can't _make _them negotiate a settlement. But we've got to _try. _If we can get them used to the idea that they _can _negotiate, that there's another way other than fighting and destroying each other...maybe we can salvage something."

Chakotay gave her a doubtful look. "I don't think it'll get anywhere," he said.

She nodded. "Perhaps," she said shortly. "But the proper thing to do is try. Otherwise, we'd be as bad as _Vor'moch."_

_

* * *

_

No one had ever seen anything like this.

The Klingon colony world of _Dy'mhen _was a small colony, as Klingon colonies were reckoned. It was quite distant from the centers of the Empire. Fewer than one hundred thousand souls called it home. More than a few residents lived under names that were not their own. It was a gray, workaday colony, much like a hundred other Klingon colonies across the quadrant. One city held most of those on it. Starship traffic to the planet consisted of freighters delivering supplies and mail, traders seeking to make a small profit, and a once-a-year visit from recruiters for the Klingon Defense Force.

Yet now, a very curious _K'Vort _class cruiser had arrived at the century-old docking facilities, and a _very _strange crew had come off for whatever liberty and entertainment that this joyless world might offer. Klingons, yes, half of them...but the other half were Starfleet.

It would have been simplicity itself for anyone to tell which Klingons in the bar were from _Vor'moch _and which were denizens of this world. The _Vor'moch _Klingons caroused with their crewmates at the polyglot of tables they had pushed together. The colonists hovered off to the sides, openly gawping.

Proud Klingon warriors, openly drinking and shouting – with _humans. _Humans in _Starfleet _uniforms, no less. Starfleet uniforms with bits and pieces of Klingon regalia on them.

What _was _the universe coming to?

But for the crew of the _Vor'moch, _this was a homecoming they had waited a long time and paid a dear price for. They were determined to enjoy it. Although the singer on the grubby stage was awful, her knowledge of Klingon opera weak and her heavy colonial accent atrocious, they still cheered loudly and drank heavily.

Barkovitch and Sayba staggered drunkenly together. He lifted a chair and smashed it as hard as he could against a table. It took a few tries to break and he stared at it owlishly, as if it had refused to splinter into pieces only to spite him. He handed some latinum to the barkeep, who took it while staring at the bizarre human.

Sayba knocked over a table and sprawled in the sawdust scattered on the floor. She grinned toothily at him. Then she staggered to her feet.

"Perhaps," she slurred, "perhaps we should see if you measure up as a Klingon does...in _other _ways."

Barkovitch grinned and took a drunken swing at her, but could not connect.

At another table, Megan Crowley perched on Karg's lap, facing him, her legs over his. The alcohol in her system – decidedly not synthehol – had dulled whatever guilt she felt over the recent activities of _Vor'moch. _Now was a time to celebrate.

"When we return to Qo'nos," Karg said, "we will be married."

Crowley stared with unfocused eyes at him. "And what? Live on Qo'nos?" she asked

"Of course," Karg said grandly.

Crowley pondered that for a moment. "I think we ought to live in Australia," she said. "You'd love it there." She waved her hand unsteadily at the other customers of the bar. "These blokes? Get rid of the ridges and they'd fit right in. We were a colony too, once." She grinned drunkenly at her own logic.

"Qo'nos is not a colony," Karg informed her. "I am of an ancient and noble house. We must live on Qo'nos."

"Klingon pommy bastard," she accused him.

Karg studied her, not offended by the comment. He had learned a lot about human swearing, but he had also learned that in his intended's lexicon, everyone in the universe was divided into _meytes, bloqs, _and _bez'tards. _He had been a member of all three groups throughout their relationship, depending on how she felt about him at the time.

"Besides, you and your dad fight. You told me so," Crowley pointed out.

"True," Karg said, "but to live on Earth would be an insult to the House of Klasq."

Crowley stared at him. "Come live in the House of Crowley. I guess we've got one. I had an ancestor who stole a chicken in London five hundred years ago. Is that good enough for you?" She chuckled.

"You are drunk," he said.

"So are you, matey," she returned. "Oh, look. Barkovitch and Sayba are hooking up. Either that or about to fight. Hard to tell which."

Karg grinned, showing her his jagged teeth. "All the better for human-Klingon relations," he grinned.

Koth sat a few tables away, looking over his crew. Kinsey sat next to him, identical glasses of bloodwine in front of them. It wasn't quite the promise Koth had made to his crew – this sad little colony was a far cry from the Central City – but it would do as a precursor.

The crew seemed to appreciate it. They'd have to delay departure for a few days: the only ones who weren't in a drunken stupor were Kinsey and Koth themselves. Tomorrow, the doctor would be treating many a hangover. On the other hand, after years in the Delta Quadrant, they deserved a chance to cut loose. Koth was willing to give a little.

"You did it," Kinsey said easily, and put away the rest of his bloodwine with nary a shudder. Before this voyage, Koth would never have thought a human could put down bloodwine the way a Klingon did. Now, he knew better.

But from the looks of the Klingons around him, his other fears had been correct. They did not understand. Was his own crew destined to become freaks, derided as human-lovers? Or was this simply because they had arrived at a provincial, backwards little world? Surely the Central City would be more cosmopolitan and relaxed about such things.

"I did," Koth agreed. "We did. But what now?"

"What do you mean?" Kinsey said, signaling the Klingon bar wench for another bloodwine.

"For seven years now, we have been one crew," Koth mused. "Now you and the Starfleet crew will return to Starfleet."

Kinsey shrugged. "We're not going to just waltz back to Earth and wave goodbye," he said.

Koth grunted and paused for a moment. "What do you think happened to _Voyager_?"

Kinsey's mouth quirked. "If Janeway goes flying into stars every time she gets angry, then she'll end up blown up," he said. "My guess is, she stomps her feet one time too many, forgets that her ship is in shreds, and gets boarded by the Karnaii." Another bloodwine arrived, and he drank from it thirstily. "Maniacal little buggers, weren't they? Not the sort of people you trifle with, if you're smart."

There were a few moments of uncomfortable, heavy silence.

"Do you think _Voyager_ will make it home?" Koth asked.

Kinsey sighed heavily. "Not unless they start picking their allies a little better," he said. "And getting off the moral high horse. We did...well, we did what we had to do. For our allies and for ourselves. "

Koth had no disagreements with that. Even so, he had to ponder. They were home, but at what cost? And what lay ahead? The crew of the _Vor'moch _had learned to accept humans; the Klingons at home had no such experience.

If Kinsey was concerned about _Voyager _exposing them, he hid it well. Then again, Kinsey was a consumnate first officer – easily the best Koth had ever had. He would know better to say anything of the sort around the crew, particularly when they were all three sheets to the wind.

Kinsey would have to be a fool not to be thinking about that, and Koth knew he was no fool. He wondered briefly if Kinsey realized that the Klingons of the Alpha Quadrant would react to Koth's action with not much more approval than Starfleet would offer the former crew of the _Holden. _Battle was honorable, but it had to be fought honorably. The baryon weapon, delivered under cloak against a foe that was nowhere near as advanced as _Vor'moch – _that raised a lot of questions.

Yet it had enabled him to make good on his promise to his crew. They were home. One uncertain journey had ended. Another was beginning.


	20. Changing Terms

_Author's note: Yeah, it's been a while. A few zillion plot bunnies running through my crazed brain, all of which distract me from this fic. Also my kids do an amazingly good job of distraction all on their own. And I had to decide where this fic was going. _

_So anyhoo, here we are. _

_Bren: Glad you liked Aussie as translated into Klingon. _

_Darkness Takes Over: Yeah, the Alpha Quadrant Klingons may not be too thrilled with Vor'moch. _

_Firebrdgirl: A rude awakening? Perish the thought? ;) _

_Stoko: Oh, we're not done with our Klingon/Starfleet ship yet. And Janeway gets tempted to return to Psycho!Janeway in this chapter..._

_Worker72: Yeah, she's more her normal self...but we'll see. _

_JadziaKathryn: Glad you liked Crowley/Karg. Janeway's actions are a little clearer in this chapter. _

_Marshpusey: I do send the kids to grandma's occasionally. But no, I haven't forgotten this story. _

_Chris1978: Nope, haven't forgotten this story. _

This was going to be contentious, at best.

Captain Janeway sat in her readyroom, trying to drag out a few more minutes before she had to go into the briefing room. Tholoch and Kreech were going to be there, and it wasn't going to be nice. They'd met for perhaps half an hour that morning. Calling it a meeting was stretching it; it had been a meeting for perhaps thirty seconds and then become a full-out screaming match. The Latarrans and Karnaii had been fighting for a long time; there would be no end to the war hammered out today.

That wasn't her intention. She would have liked to foster a peace between the two, but Chakotay had been right on that. Neither side wanted a lasting peace. All she wanted to do today was getting them talking and hammer out a plan by which the Latarran hostages on Salim Ru could be evacuated. To plant a seed, in other words. If the two sides learned that they could talk out their differences instead of bombing each other back to the Stone Age, that might be enough. Surely both sides had seen enough death.

All the same, it wasn't easy. Latarran emotions were still raw over the double attacks on Spanos and Salim Ru. The Karnaii weren't any better. Kreech had openly exulted over the Karnaii conquest of Salim Ru, calling it the most glorious day in a century.

The Latarrans weren't winning any points for diplomacy, either. Tholoch had called Kreech an animal and a murderer and told him the Karnaii would pay for their crimes by being extirpated from the galaxy like germs. It wasn't exactly conducive to diplomacy.

She rose, gathered her courage, and strode down to the meeting room. Tholoch and his aides occupied one corner of the table. At the other end, Kreech and some of his officers sat. There was a palpable feeling of malevolence in the room. Both sides stared pugnaciously at the other.

Janeway closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Gentlemen," she began. "Let us hope that we can reach an understanding here today. Remember, our concern is the Latarrans who are still on Salim Ru. Most of them are civilians, and not a part of the disagreement."

Kreech scowled, showing his unlovely yellow rodent teeth. "_All _Latarrans are part of the disagreement," he said. "All of them work together to keep us Karnaii in a state of misery and poverty."

Tholoch's eyebrows rose. "We Latarrans have offered peace overture after peace overture to you! Yet you deny it and attack our people!"

"The peace of the downtrodden is all you offer us," Kreech sneered. "You cannot sit with us as equals. You deprive us of our colony. Now you have lost, and you seek to save your own skins. Pah!" He spat in disgust.

"Captain Kreech, I'll thank you not to spit on my floor," Janeway said archly. "Surely, if we allow the Karnaii to remain on Salim Ru pending negotiation of a diplomatic solution--,"

Tholoch shook his head. "Salim Ru is ours by right," he said. "Latarrans occupied it for centuries. We were forced to abandon it."

"And it was ours then, and it is now, and it will be forever!" Kreech said, and thumped his chest.

_All this for one Class-M planet? _Janeway thought.

"Perhaps Salim Ru could be detached from both the Karnaii and Latarran spheres of influence, and governed by its own planetary government, consisting of Latarrans and Karnaii both," Janeway suggested. "There are examples in the Federation database that are similar, where power-sharing arrangements were worked out--,"

Both Tholoch and Kreech answered in unison. "_Never!" _

"The alternative is a war which will cripple _both _sides," Janeway insisted. "The Karnaii have better weapons. The Latarrans possess superior conventional forces. Would you prefer a war that took the lives of millions?"

Kreech made a clawed fist. "Dying in battle against our oppressors is a great thing."

"We would gladly live in peace with you, if you allowed it," Tholoch snarled. "You do not _want _peace. You want victory."

"And we shall have it!" Kreech said.

"Not while we are alive," Tholoch said.

_This is getting nowhere, _Janeway thought. "Gentlemen, please. Our focus is the Latarrans who remain on Salim Ru."

"Very well." Kreech sounded extremely sarcastic. "Captain Janeway, I have been informed by my command that we are prepared to release _certain _Latarran prisoners."

Janeway paused. Kreech had been in contact with the Karnaii command? That was interesting.

"Go on," she said hopefully.

"We will exchange Latarran prisoners on a one-for-one basis with Karnaii soldiers currently in Latarran custody," Kreech said. "Brothers good and true in the war of liberation, who languish in the inhumane prisons and gulags of the vile Latarran oppressors."

Janeway put a hand to her forehead and tried mightily to summon patience. The Karnaii taste for overdramatics was beginning to get under her skin. "I understand, Captain Kreech. Do you have a list?"

"I do," Kreech said, and pushed a PADD across the table. Janeway glanced at it.

"There are only fifteen hundred names on this list, and there are eighteen million Latarrans unaccounted for on Salim Ru," she said gently. "Are you saying the Karnaii only wish to release fifteen hundred Latarrans?"

Kreech smiled coldly and made a _comme ci, comme ca _gesture with one hand. "It is a start," he said. "Currently, I am authorized only to trade one for one."

Tholoch's face colored when he saw the list. "What? Free these murderers and terrorists? Unacceptable! The Karnaii Defense Organization would be twice as dangerous with these monsters free. We would _kill _these criminals before setting them free!"

"Then the colonists shall remain on Salim Ru, as our _slaves_!" Kreech shouted, seeming to enjoy the thought. "They will dig our ditches and clean our homes and shine our shoes! With their _tongues!" _

Tholoch lunged across the table with fingers outstretched, meaning to strangle the Karnaii captain. The Karnaii contingent rose from the table, drawing their weapons. A split-second later, the Latarrans had drawn their own. Shouts ruled the conference room.

Janeway raised her arms and jumped up on the middle of the table, standing between them so that they'd have to fire on her before hitting their enemies. She let out one short, sharp shout -- "_Stop!" -- _with all the power years of command had taught her. The doors opened to admit security officers armed with phaser rifles. For a long moment, there was only the hum of energy weapons.

"Stop," Janeway repeated. "That was _disgraceful. _For both of you. Now listen. All I ask of you is that you arrive at a plan for the colonists. We cannot deal with the entire war, or with every last dispute you have against each other. But I _will _require that both sides stop with the petty insults. _Now. _Now we do have a proposal on the table to trade fifteen hundred Latarrans for fifteen hundred Karnaii."

"You do yourself no credit by associating with these criminals, Captain Janeway," Tholoch said, his tone dripping with scorn. "Nonetheless...I will consult with my High Command."

He took a moment to compose his dignity and walked out, his retinue following him silently. Not a word broke the silence. The door closed in his wake. Janeway sighed and stepped down off her table.

"Ah, Captain Janeway. I do appreciate the opportunity to speak with you in private," Kreech said, smiling gently as if he hadn't done anything.

"Excuse me?" she asked politely.

The ratlike being cleared his throat. "Captain Janeway, our sources indicate that you intend to give the Latarrans advanced sensor technology."

She stared at him evenly, not giving an inch. "That's not a secret, Captain Kreech."

"We would prefer that you not do so."

She sighed. "_Vor'moch _gave you advanced weapons and cloaking devices," she said. "This is not intended as an anti-Karnaii act. It is intended to restore the balance."

Kreech shook his head. "There is no need to do so," he said.

"Why? Otherwise you'll simply invade Latarran planets with cloaked ships and fire on them with baryon warheads."

Kreech paused, and it occurred to her that he really saw no problem with that. "Once the Latarrans are ready to offer a true, just, honorable peace, we will be willing to stay our hand." The Karnaii moved closer to her. "Besides, Captain...we are realists. We do not appreciate your allegiance to the Latarrans, but such things can change, can't they? We can offer you something they cannot. The same thing we offered the crew of the _Vor'moch. _A way home." The creature smiled with its lipless mouth. "You wished to punish the crew of the _Vor'moch, _did you not? We can offer you that, too."

Janeway paused, feeling the flames fan high once again. She'd given up the _Vor'moch _for lost. Now, they could be within her grasp. But, no.

"I promised the Latarrans my assistance," she said uncertainly.

"Simple enough. Give them plans that don't work, tell them you need to shake down your warp core, and enter Karnaii space. By the time they figure it out, you'll be long gone. We can assist you in stabilizing the wormhole. And besides, doesn't the letter of your Prime Directive require that you stay out of wars that don't concern you?"

"We're already involved in this one," she said, although she could already hear the angry woman in the back of her mind, screaming_ It's the Vor'moch you want!_

"The Karnaii Defense Organization is willing to...forgive...your actions at our starport," Kreech said softly. "Besides, think of your crew. The crew of _Vor'moch _will be home in a few months. You could have the same. All you have to do is...leave well enough alone. Leave our space, return to your own, and we shall settle the matter ourselves. Return to your Alpha Quadrant business and leave us to ours."

Kathryn Janeway opened her mouth. Closed it. No, of course she couldn't. She had to see this through. She would handle this the way Starfleet officers _should _handle it.

"I can't give you any promises," she said.

Kreech smiled. "Of course not. I shall return to my ship and update my command. But Captain Janeway...do think about it."

As he left, Janeway swallowed, feeling the old rage return, the desire to return home _and _have the _Vor'moch _in her hands. Surely a Federation diplomatic team could solve the Latarran-Karnaii crisis better than she could.

Could she make him any promises? Of course not. Would she think about his offer? Of course she would. Vengeance and duty. Vengeance or duty? Which course of action should she take?

She'd think about it. She had no other choice.

* * *

Shore leave had been a way of allowing a ship's crew a chance to relax and escape the confines of working on a ship. This had been true when ships were made of wood and crossed the ocean; it was true when Earth launched its first starships, and it was true now. Shore leave was for fun and relaxation.

In this case, shore leave had made things a bit worse. Some of this was the usual reasons – the majority of the crew was feeling the effects of their night of wild abandon. Many a headache cure had been clandestinely replicated aboard _Vor'moch _in the morning.

The Starfleet contingent aboard _Vor'moch _was tense because they knew what they faced if _Voyager _ever returned to the Alpha Quadrant. They could be tried as war criminals, even traitors: had they not served aboard a Klingon ship and fired on a Starfleet vessel? Their Klingon allies could offer them little in the way of comfort. The alliance between the Federation and the Klingon Empire made extradition a simple procedure. No Starfleet officer knew that fact more keenly than the ragged crew and officers of the former _USS Holden. _

The Klingons aboard the ship were tense for different reasons. Their welcome back to the Empire had not been everything they'd hoped for. Other Klingons did not understand their camaraderie with their human crewmates. It was easy to blame it on a colonial backwater. But what if it wasn't? What if all Klingons scorned them for their attachment to humans?

The command crew had a weightier problem.

They assembled in the briefing room, eyes bloodshot and glassy, clutching cups of _raktajino _and palmed headache relievers. Koth stared out at them – his noble, exhausted crew. They deserved better.

"We have one final problem to address before we return to Qo'nos," he rumbled.

"What is that?" Karg asked bluntly.

"The wormhole," Koth said.

Karg wasn't the only one to look puzzled. They all did.

"Kinsey?" Koth said knowingly.

"The problem is that both the Empire and the Federation are going to want to see it," Kinsey clarified. "We're all explorers. The Klingons might want to use the Karnaii-Latarran war to train new warriors and try out new military equipment – Latarran technology isn't as advanced as ours, so it would be essentially shakedown conditions. The Federation would want to explore, send out scientific and diplomatic missions. Obviously...we don't want that to happen." He nodded at the chief engineer. "Crowley, you said collapsing a wormhole wasn't hard."

Crowley swallowed. She _had _said that, Koth remembered. At the time, she'd been trying to cajole him into letting her warn _Voyager _of their sabotage. Watching her, he didn't think she'd put much thought into actually doing it.

"It isn't," she said. "Wormholes are naturally unstable. The hard part is getting them stable enough to travel through. They come and they go. The only one that hasn't collapsed on its own is the one around Bajor. All we need is to fire a photon torpedo and detonate it at the edge of the event horizon. The terminal end destabilizes, and there you are, no more wormhole. This one seems to be linked with another one, though. That changes things. It might come back. More likely it would destabilize both."

Koth nodded. "Very well," he said. "Crowley, Kormack, commence plans. We will leave orbit in the morning."

"What about the Karnaii?" Karg asked.

Kinsey shrugged. "What about them?"

"They are our allies," Karg said, and nodded his head to underscore the point.

"They _were _our allies," Kinsey answered. "Our alliance is at an end. We agreed to help them in their war; they agreed to help get us home. Done deal. We never said 'We'll go through the wormhole and promise to keep it open.' It is both necessary and completely honorable. Besides, they'll never know."

"Crikey," Crowley said miserably.

Koth stared blankly at her. "What?" he asked.

Crowley looked somewhat pained. "Well...we're Starfleet officers. And Klingons. How do we explain to the Federation and the Empire that we collapsed a wormhole? Neither one will be happy to hear that. We're supposed to _explore _space, not blow it up. And what if some other ship is traveling through one of the wormholes while we blow it up?"

Kinsey answered, sparing his captain the need. "They won't know either," he said. "No one will. The end on this side isn't anywhere near the normal trade routes. This is the butt end of the Klingon Empire, Crowley. We've got a bunch of freighters and hundred-year-old Birds of Prey for company. Nothing is going to follow us. When we get back, they'll check the position, and they'll see no wormhole there. They'll think it destabilized on its own, and that will be that."

He hadn't answered her second question. Koth stepped in before she could repeat it.

"I've made my decision," Koth said. "You have your orders."

Kormack, the weedy little science officer who had designed the baryon warhead, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His droopy mustache twitched. "Such a shame to destroy a wormhole," he said mournfully. "The loss of scientific opportunity could be just awful."

"We do what we must," Koth said, meaning to pad the blow. "Some of us serve the Empire, some of us serve the Federation. But we do this because we must...for _Vor'moch." _


	21. Further Complications

_Author's notes: _

_It's been a while, yes. So here's a chapter. I continue to be besieged with plot bunny ideas. One is pulling ahead of the rest, as usual, but it's not the same one as last time. I am wrestling with trying to keep an OC from becoming a Mary Sue, and given the plot in mind it ain't easy. So how are all you people on bright-but-cripplingly-introverted science officers, anyway? _

_eScapefreak: Glad to see you back! I thought you'd appreciate Crowley, Aussie accent, Tim Tams, and all. _

_Saavik: Drunk Barkovitch was solely for your benefit. Glad to see you around. _

_Bren: Yes, more complications. And more! _

_Marshpusey: It gets better. _

_JadziaKathryn: The Karnaii are determined little buggers. Here's the chapter, although I don't know if this qualifies as 'soon'. _

_Worker72: Um, weren't you asking for the Latarrans and Karnaii to fight each other into a new dark age? Now you want the Vor'moch crew punished. Barclay as deus ex machina; I don't think I'd ever thought of that one. It's plausible, though. _

_Darkness Takes Over: Glad you liked the chapter. The Karnaii are crafty little fellas._

_Firebirdgirl: Janeway may not go back over to the dark side. But come on, she was kind of fun that way. _

Admiral Rhoden sat at his desk and uttered a squeaky oath. The latest reports were coming in. The Karnaii were a poor people, and maintaining the occupation was stretching the Karnaii Defense Organization to its limits. There were literally millions of troops and crew to feed. There were eighteen million Latarran prisoners. Those meant less to him; if worst came to worse, he could always say that one Latarran could eat another. But they had to be kept, and they had to be held.

To top it off, the deluded Latarran lackey Janeway had hijacked one of his best captains and was attempting to impose a peaceful resolution for the 'hostages' on Salim Ru. Rhoden found it incomprehensible. If those hostages left the planet, the Latarrans would strike Salim Ru with everything they had. They would burn the planet to a cinder rather than let the Karnaii, the rightful owners, have it.

What was worse was that Janeway planned to give the Latarrans sensor technology that would nullify the cloaking devices they had acquired from _Vor'moch. _She had not given that technology away yet, but his sources told him it would be soon. It might take them a few months to deploy that technology to their war fleet, but they would. In the end, it would come down to a footrace.

If the Latarrans got that technology and deployed it to their ships first, they would be able to set a lot of his advantages at naught. Cloaking devices might not mean a lot if they were detectable. Kreech had reported that the Federation ship's sensors did not seem to _always _be able to detect cloaked vessels, but anything that whittled away his advantage was not good.

If, on the other hand, Srask and his people managed to build their own baryon weapons, then the Karnaii would have an opportunity for one last punch before the all-out war began. There were seven main planets still under Latarran control. If they could produce seven warheads, so much the better. If they couldn't, then the Karnaii would have to hit Latarra Prime first.

That sensor technology was key. He needed to keep it from the Latarrans. _Vor'moch _was gone; he could no longer call upon them to champion his cause. One way or the other, he had to get _Voyager _out of the picture. How best to do that?

Currently, _Voyager _was heavily damaged, but repairs were under way. Kreech had also advised him that the Latarrans had offered Janeway use of a starbase. That was where they would doubtlessly get the technology.

Janeway seemed to think differently than Koth and the crew of the _Vor'moch. _She had an inexplicable desire to accomplish things peacefully – as if the Latarran dogs had ever accomplished anything peacefully. Perhaps that was an weakness he could exploit.

Yes. There it was. Janeway cared so much for the Latarran hostages on Salim Ru. The rightful Karnaii possessors apparently warranted no such concern, but that was the way things went.

An idea began to form in his mind. The more he thought about it, the better he liked it. It offered two forks, and either way would accomplish his goal. It would sacrifice certain things they had held back for a long time, but the payoff would be worth it.

First, he sent Srask some new orders. The response came back quickly enough. Fortunately, manufacturing baryon warheads was not difficult and Srask could leave it in the hands of underlings. Srask could do what Rhoden wanted him to do.

Carefully, he opened a secure channel to Kreech's ship and began to tap out instructions.

* * *

_This was a mistake, _Koth thought. 

They should have taken care of this first. Doing it now would raise some questions. All the same, it had to be done. It would have been far better had _Vor'moch's _first action upon passing through the wormhole been to turn about and fire photon torpedoes to collapse the wormhole.

But, in defense of the crew, he had been injured, the crew had just carried out a difficult attack on Salim Ru, and everyone had simply wanted to see the home for which they had pined for so long.

He sighed. He felt tired. It occurred to him that most Klingon captains would not make excuses for their crew. Perhaps these seven years shoulder to shoulder with humans had changed him more than he had thought.

"Sensor sweep," he ordered.

Barkovitch manned his console stolidly. "Two freighters, one two light years distant, the other two and a half, _devwI_," he said.

"Raise cloak," Koth ordered. The unearthly hum of the cloaking device settled in, making the entire frame of the ship seem to thrum and vibrate. The _Vor'moch _would not be seen by any other ships in the area. He glanced over at Kinsey and nodded. He didn't need to say anything more.

"Karg, set a course for the wormhole," Kinsey said. "Warp five."

Karg complied, glancing over his shoulder at his commanders to acknowledge the order with a nod. "Course laid in," he grunted.

Warp five would be fast enough. It would take a few hours to reach the wormhole, but traveling faster might raise suspicion. Yes, they had the cloak, but they'd also been through a wormhole that had catapulted them thirty-five thousand light years. If it had ionized the hull or done _anything _that might impair the cloak – better not to take the chance.

Besides, Koth reflected, the odds were unlikely that the wormhole would be there when they arrived. It opened, closed, came up somewhere else, closed again. But soon it would be no more. For the sake of his ship and crew, that door to the Delta Quadrant had to be closed forever.

_Vor'moch _jumped to warp and streaked away.

* * *

Saying that the negotiations weren't going well would have been absurdly kind. The Latarrans and the Karnaii despised each other; she couldn't change that. It was everything she could do to keep negotiations limping along like a tired, old dog. The Latarrans wanted nothing short of complete Karnaii evacuation of Salim Ru. The Karnaii demanded recognition of Salim Ru as a Karnaii colony. The Latarrans would demand the immediate and unconditional release of all the prisoners on Salim Ru. The Karnaii would only trade on a one-for-one basis for captured Karnaii in Latarran prisons. The Latarrans refused that out of hand. Two races, with a lot of rage and hatred. Two fleets, itching to flare into open war. The only thing keeping that from happening right now was the negotiations aboard _Voyager. _

The disturbing feeling that Sisyphus had it easy compared to her kept floating in and out of her consciousness. All Sisyphus had to do was push his rock up the mountain. When Kathryn Janeway's rock rolled back down the mountain, it would take millions of lives with it.

Part of her thought she was being foolish. _Voyager _was still not in fighting shape, and they could not pull back to a Latarran starbase for the promised repairs with the negotiations underway. Neither the Latarrans nor the Karnaii would accept that. Perhaps she ought to be realistic about it: pull back to Latarran space, repair the ship, give the Latarrans their sensor technology, and wish the two of them the best. She'd tried.

Another part of her was tempted by the Karnaii offer of an alliance. Of course, they had an ulterior motive. They wanted to keep _Voyager's _sensor technology out of Latarran hands. That much was obvious. All the same, it was sorely tempting. The crimes of the _Vor'moch _had gotten them home, beyond her reach. By taking the Karnaii offer, she could cut through the entire Gordian knot, leave the Latarrans and the Karnaii to settle their differences themselves, and deal with the people she _should _be dealing with: the Starfleet war criminals aboard _Vor'moch. _

But then, there was the part of her that refused to bend or give. Yes, the _Vor'moch _had deliberately meddled in the conflict. Yes, the Starfleet officers on that ship had gone along with it. Yes, the Prime Directive forbade giving less advanced races access to new technology. But she would not give in so easily. She would honor the spirit of the Prime Directive, not the letter.

It was possible, even probable, that war would flare up between the two races no matter what she did. But the Latarrans on Salim Ru were not soldiers; they were colonists. The right thing to do was to _try _to negotiate. If she could withdraw those colonists from the fire zone, then at least the only people fighting would be those who had actually signed up to fight. And if the Latarrans and the Karnaii came to the conclusion that negotiation _was, _in fact, an option, so much the better.

Janeway sat in her readyroom, trying to think. Something had to be there. Something she hadn't tried. Something that would move the negotiations forward from simply screaming unreasonable demands at each other to something both sides could actually live with. Nothing seemed to come to mind.

The chime of her door sounded. She glanced up. "Come," she called.

The door opened to admit Kreech. Janeway smiled pleasantly.

"Captain Kreech," she said courteously. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Captain Janeway," Kreech squeaked. It looked like he was trying to smile. In one hand he held a block of dark-colored wood, which he occasionally lifted to his mouth. As a scientist, she knew that rodents had incisors that were always growing and thus they needed to wear them down. As a Starfleet officer, she was obligated to respect the differences of other races. As the host of these negotiations, she could not afford to antagonize the Karnaii over small things; she'd done enough already. Even so, the Karnaii captain gnawing on his chew stick was a particularly unlovely sight. "You have not yet given an answer to our proposal."

"First things first," she said. "Captain, surely you must realize that I cannot continue to meet with you behind the back of the Latarrans."

"Perhaps you should," the Karnaii answered. "I have received instructions from my command. Instructions that are quite clear and will move the negotiations forward. I believe you will find them...quite interesting. I wished to bring them to you first, because the Latarrans will reject it out of hand as they reject every offer we make."

Janeway leaned forward. "And what offer would that be?" she asked.

Kreech placed a PADD on the table. "You are concerned for the fate of the Latarrans on Salim Ru," he said. "Admiral Rhoden will permit _Voyager, _along with five Latarran officers, to travel to the planet and tour the facilities yourselves. You may see with your own eyes that they are treated humanely."

Janeway did not say anything for a few moments. The Karnaii had already tried to start two-track diplomacy with her. She wasn't sure how much trust she could place in them.

"You may meet with Latarrans on Salim Ru and speak with them in confidence," Kreech added. "I must also add that Salim Ru has a large starport facility. You would be allowed sufficient repairs there, for anything except your weapons. Propulsion, hull breaches, EPS plasma...all that would be allowed. Our engineers would help."

_Yeah, you'd just love to get sensor scans of this ship, wouldn't you? _"That's a kind offer, Captain Kreech. It seems...almost too good to be true."

"There are limitations, of course," Kreech responded. "The Latarran officers will bring no equipment whatsoever with them. _Voyager _will be required to shut down its weapons and shields while in orbit of the planet. If you scan the planet, you will give the sensor logs to us."

"I see," Janeway said uncertainly. "And why has the Karnaii Defense Organization made this offer?"

Kreech shrugged. "I have only the orders from my command to relay this offer, not the reasons they made it," he said mournfully, as if he were a mere ensign. "We wish for an honorable peace. Perhaps a concrete gesture will...move things along." The gaze from those beady little eyes made her uncomfortable.

"And of course, Captain Janeway," the creature finished, "the matter of which we spoke before...is still open."

Janeway paused. Something didn't smell right about this. Or was she simply being paranoid? It was hard to tell. Perhaps she wasn't being fair.

"My concern right now are the negotiations in progress, Captain Kreech," she informed him.

"As you wish," Kreech said. "Nonetheless, my command wishes to know your decision in twelve hours. "

"I'll take that offer under consideration," she said politely. "Obviously, I will have to speak with the Latarran delegation."

"Of course," Kreech said, and rose. "I appreciate your time, Captain Janeway. If you will excuse me?"

Janeway nodded, standing to see the Karnaii captain to the door. When he was gone, she sat down and thought.

What was this? The Karnaii obviously wanted very badly to keep her out of a Latarran spacedock. Was this a trap of some kind, or a real gesture? Was she being fair to the Karnaii? Perhaps they knew that the Latarran response to more attacks would mean the extirpation of their race, or as close as the Latarrans could get. Perhaps this was some ploy.

But even as damaged as _Voyager _was, it wasn't like the Karnaii could take the ship. Shields were up and functional, and their fleet was made up of ragtag, rattletrap ships whose shield technology was at least a hundred years behind hers. Even in its current condition, it could swat most of the Karnaii fleet around Salim Ru like mosquitoes, when you came down to it. Of course, that was most, but not all.

Should she trust them? Was this an attempt for them to seize _Voyager _or move along the peace process? She wasn't sure, and either move might be wrong. If the Karnaii were legitimate – or even if they had something up their sleeve – turning down this offer might stonewall her negotiations forever.

The Latarrans would be unlikely to favor the idea. They were being just as intractable. It was up to her.

It was a good offer, on the face of things. It might be what the negotiations needed. Or it could be a Trojan horse.

Kathryn Janeway sat down with her coffee. It offered her comfort but no advice. No decision would be easy today.


	22. War and Peace

_Author's note: This story isn't dead. A little blocked, but here's a little shakeup._

The battered starship _Voyager _cruised towards the planet of Salim Ru for the second time in a few days. Despite the blows she had taken, the ship managed some grace as it approached the planet. Captain Janeway watched the planet on the viewscreen. A large Karnaii fleet orbited the planet as if boasting to all that Salim Ru was theirs.

The Latarran officers had not been particularly happy about coming to a Salim Ru under Karnaii occupation. They had argued that the Karnaii had no intention of dealing fairly with them. They had suggested that _Voyager _would be better served in a Latarran drydock, which, they had reminded her, was an offer they had made in return for _Voyager's _advanced sensor technology.

Getting the ship repaired was important. Keeping the conflict from flaring into open war was more important. Time in a Latarran drydock wouldn't mean much if the Latarrans and Karnaii were slaughtering each other.

This was going to be touchy. The Karnaii contingent aboard seemed positively gleeful, eager to show off their dominion of the planet. The Latarrans were not taking it well; they had stopped offering much of anything to the diplomatic meetings, just going through the motions of hearing Karnaii proposals, refusing them, and making counterproposals that everyone knew the Karnaii would never accept.

"We're being hailed," Harry said from the Ops console.

"On screen," Janeway said. The screen coalesced into a Karnaii, staring at her with those odd oilspot eyes.

"_Voyager, _this is Salim Ru Spacedock," the creature squeaked. "We have prepared a berth for you in the repair docks."

Janeway paused. The Karnaii clearly didn't want her to give the Latarrans the advanced sensor technology, and this could be a means of obligating her. Besides, she didn't entirely like the idea of the Karnaii getting a good look at _Voyager's _technology. The Karnaii had already been given far too much advanced technology for anyone's good. On the other hand, they already perceived her as allied to the Latarrans, and if she refused the offer they might take her refusal as an insult. These negotiations were going poorly enough, and she desperately wanted them to succeed. Sisyphus had tried to roll his rock up the mountain for all eternity; if her rock rolled back down the mountain it could take millions of lives with it.

So someone had to take a step, and if neither the Latarrans nor the Karnaii would do it, she would. She'd have to make sure that the Karnaii didn't get too close of a look at the ship, but she'd have to be discreet about it. B'Elanna would find something for them to do that wouldn't give them anything they didn't already have. Had the _Vor'moch _given them Klingon sensor technology? The thought of them made a pulse of rage flash through her temples, and she grabbed the arm of her chair hard. The Klingon ship with its Starfleet crew, flying off with nary a care for the mess they'd left behind, as long as it got them home – _argh. _The idea still galled her.

"Acknowledged," she said archly. "Mr. Paris, bring us in."

The doors of the mighty spacedock opened, and Janeway stared at it for a moment. The spacedock was of Latarran origin. Like Salim Ru itself, it was now spoils of war for the Karnaii. They seemed to have it in working order. How well did they know the ways of their enemies.

The sight of captured Latarran fighter craft berthed side by side with Karnaii raiders was oddly jarring, considering how the two races hated each other. The Latarran officers aboard _Voyager _ought to be kept away from that sight; it would only inflame their anger. The spacedock was large enough for their craft, but a bit cramped for an _Intrepid-_class starship. Paris piloted the ship to the only empty berth large enough for _Voyager. _Mechanical arms jutted out from from the sides as if waiting to shake hands with them – or perhaps grab them.

"Harry," she said thoughtfully, "have the Latarran officers aboard brought to the briefing room. We ought to prepare them for this."

Harry nodded and set to work. She gathered her courage and proceeded to the briefing room. A few minutes later, the Latarran contingent entered, with Tholoch in the lead. She took a long, careful look at him, taking his measure.

The anger and fury that had colored the negotiations seemed to be absent. She might have expected the sight of Salim Ru under Karnaii control to inflame that. Yet Tholoch and his officers seemed resigned, even calm, as if their path had been chosen.

"General Tholoch," she said gently. "I realize this may not be easy. We're going to be meeting with the Karnaii command...on the planet. We're going to see what they may want in return for freeing the colonists."

Tholoch nodded and gave her a sober, level gaze. "We will see," he said shortly. "It is doubtful that the Karnaii will do anything that we want. They have staunchly maintained their one-to-one policy, and my own High Command will not release the terrorists that they want released. But...we shall try."

She nodded uneasily. "Of course," she said. Something didn't seem right. All the same, perhaps Tholoch had finally realized that anger would get him nowhere. She hoped that was the case. Before she could say anything more, her combadge buzzed. "Tuvok to Captain Janeway."

She tapped it. "Go ahead," she said.

"I have certain reports that require your signature. May I meet you on the bridge?"

She paused. Tuvok would have known where she was; there had to be a reason he wasn't bringing it directly to her. Perhaps he was trying to maintain discretion.

"My readyroom. I'll be right there." She smiled apologetically at the Latarran general. "I'm sorry," she said.

Tholoch made a grand, sweeping gesture. "Duty calls," he said. "All militaries are the same – paperwork is never-ending." He even smiled, but his eyes were cold above his grin.

She excused herself and headed for her readyroom. Tuvok was there, waiting for her with a PADD in hand. The doors closed behind her as she took her place at her desk.

"All right, Mr. Tuvok, what is it you have for me?"

Tuvok's face was impassive as always. "I have been quietly monitoring Latarran military frequencies and ship positions. There is a large force massing near the Karnaii Reservation, divided into several small fleets." He stepped to the LCARS panel and called up a map of the local area. There they were, several fleets moving into position. "Over the past few hours, there has been a seventy percent increase in encrypted transmission on Latarran military frequencies. They have provided us with keys to some of their encryption codes, but these are unfamiliar."

"Analysis?" she prompted.

"The Latarrans are planning a strike on Karnaii planets, and do not wish us to know about it," Tuvok said.

A pang of fear hit her stomach. "We knew they were planning a strike," she said. "But they held off for the negotiations. I told them we'd only give them the sensor technology if they negotiated."

Tuvok nodded. "The negotiations have not been productive," he said, which in her opinion qualified as the biggest understatement in the Delta Quadrant.

"Is this a threat, do you think?" she prodded. "Something to move the negotiation along?"

Tuvok shook his head. "Unlikely," he said. "The Latarrans possess a significant advantage in conventional forces. The Karnaii have moved most of their ships and troops to Salim Ru. They can defend Salim Ru or their colonies, but not both. However, the Latarran fleets cannot simply wait forever. The Karnaii could conceivably send a defense fleet to their colonies within one day. Their advantage would be significantly weakened."

"But the Karnaii have Salim Ru, and the colonists," Janeway said weakly. She could see where this was going, and she didn't like it one bit.

"I cannot speak for the Latarrans," Tuvok said, "but it is possible that their High Command does not believe the Karnaii will free them through negotiations. An attack on the Karnaii colonies would give the Latarrans Karnaii hostages, giving them a much better advantage."

Janeway swallowed. "You said that Karnaii ships and troops were on Salim Ru. Who's on the colonies?" she asked.

Tuvok's face was stone. "Noncombatants," he said. "Women, children, elderly, and what civilian workforce they possess. The Karnaii appear to have made efforts to keep their civilian population away from Salim Ru."

She paused and looked again at the fleets on the edge of the Karnaii Reservation. It wasn't hard to see; there were five settled Karnaii planets and five fleets. Could the Latarrans really retaliate against civilians? The idea was horrific. What had happened on Spanos and Salim Ru was terrible, but the Karnaii colonies had no defenses worth the name.

"No wonder Tholoch was so calm,_" _she said. "We ought to see what he can tell us."

Tuvok nodded. "It is likely that General Tholoch does not have much more knowledge than we ourselves have observed," he commented. "If hostilities commence, he is likely to be captured or out of contact with the High Command. The strategic choice would be to provide him with a mere overview of the operation, without details."

"They do have to realize that if they retaliate, the Karnaii will respond in kind," Janeway said, feeling the strength flow out of her legs.

"Considering the Karnaii attacks against Spanos and Salim Ru," Tuvok said, "it is logical that they have given up the colonists on Salim Ru for lost. Conversely, they may be planning to hold the Karnaii planets and occupy them."

She didn't need him to suggest that; she could get the idea herself. Desperately, she strove for something to ward it away. Here it was, spiraling completely out of her control, right under her nose.

"The Latarrans can't attack the Karnaii," she said, striving to make it so by her own will. "They have to know we won't give them the sensor technology if they do."

Tuvok gave her a long, sober look. "That is true," he said. "However, it is also possible the Latarrans are no longer willing to wait."

_Vor'moch_ had hovered in position for almost a day, and the atmosphere aboard the ship was strained and snappish. The command crew might understand the fact that the wormhole opened and closed at random times, and it could be as long as two weeks before it reappeared. The ship had sufficient supplies for at least a month, perhaps two with strict rationing. To know that fact, however, did not change the mood of the crew. They were tired, disappointed from their reception on the Klingon colony planet, and nervous. They just wanted this to be over.

As the first officer, it was Kinsey's job to keep his thumb on the pulse of crew morale. He could feel the exhausted tension of the crew. Countering it wasn't easy, but he did what he could. He went to and fro while the ship hovered, visiting the galley, crew quarters, sickbay, the bridge. All he had to offer was soothing words – an inadequate balm, but it was all he had. He was trying to talk down a few tense Klingon crewmen when Koth's gruff voice burst out over his combadge.

"Koth to senior crew. Assemble in the briefing room."

He smiled pleasantly at the crewmen. "Duty calls," he quipped, and headed for the turbolift. It took only a moment or two to reach the upper decks, and the briefing room was nearby. He wanted to get there early; Koth might want to talk to him.

The LCARS panel in the briefing room seemed cleaner to him than it had been. Klingons didn't put a great deal of interest into spit-shining everything, the way Starfleet did. As long as it worked, that was good enough for them. He stared for a moment at his own reflection. The uniform he wore was the one that the _Voyager _crew had issued them. Klingons only replicated a new uniform when the old one was falling apart, and the Starfleet crew aboard the ship had adopted their compatriots' ways. The new uniform seemed to clash with the long, shaggy goatee and warrior's queue that he'd worn for so long. A Klingon belt around his waist held his holstered disruptor and knife.

_How much we've changed, _he thought. _Now we're home...but is it home anymore? _

"Anything I should know?" he asked Koth.

The hulking Klingon scratched the bandage covering his head wound. "The Karnaii have managed to hail us through the wormhole," he grunted.

Kinsey sighed. "Which means they want something."

Koth nodded wordlessly.

The rest of the senior crew entered, and he took a moment to observe them. Karg, Crowley, Barkovitch, Sayba, and Kormack. A command crew assembled from the wreckage of two crews, manning a ship that was assembled from the wreckage of two ships. For so long, they'd waited to get home. Now they were – but not really. They'd hoped to close the wormhole and be on their way, to whatever the future might bring. Now the Karnaii were calling again.

That, Kinsey thought, might well be what was straining the crew. Of course, there was _Voyager, _and once the wormhole was closed their secret would be safe. After years of waiting, they were finally home, but those loose ends just kept popping back up to tangle them up again.

"We have received a coded message from the Karnaii," Koth informed the crew gruffly. Without further ado, he turned and tapped a control on the panel with a blunt finger. The screen turned to static for a moment, and then fuzzed into the figure of Admiral Rhoden.

"How can they get a message to us?" Karg asked. "The wormhole is not open on our end yet."

Koth shrugged. "Crowley?"

"A few ways. It's a lot easier to get a subspace signal through a wormhole in one piece than it is an entire ship. Could be just a harmonic. It's a bloody strange wormhole," Crowley said, staring at the ratlike being on the screen. Koth tapped another button, and the Karnaii leader spoke.

"This is Admiral Rhoden hailing the _Vor'moch_. We are in need of your help. The Latarrans are planning an imminent military strike. _Voyager _is in orbit of Salim Ru, trying to negotiate a peace. They will fail. We cannot have our own baryon warheads ready in time. Please...you must help us." The image dissolved into nothingness.

Kinsey closed his eyes and sighed. He could read between the lines perfectly well. If _Vor'moch _did not help the Karnaii, then they would turn to _Voyager. _That left some unpleasant options on the table – _Voyager _might be able to use the wormhole before _Vor'moch _could close it.

He wasn't exactly surprised to hear that the Latarrans had finally decided to strike back. Hadn't the Karnaii seen this coming? Did they really think they could attack two colonies, take one over entirely, and face no repercussions?

From what he knew of the Karnaii fleet, along with their plans for the invasion, it was a pretty good guess that most of their fleet would be defending Salim Ru. That left their own colonies wide open to an attack. The Karnaii couldn't spare much. If they lost their starport, they'd also lose their only means of making their own warheads. If the Latarrans attacked them with conventional forces now, the result would be a bloodbath.

The wild card was _Voyager. _Janeway had gone all out to stop them, even flying her sabotaged starship into a star. According to _Vor'moch's _sensor readings then, _Voyager _had been heavily damaged. Could that sort of damage be repaired in the time she'd had? He didn't think so, but then again, Crowley had pulled off more than a few miracles in her time, and from what he'd seen, the half-Klingon engineer on _Voyager _was no slouch.

From the looks on the faces of the command crew, Kinsey thought they knew it too. Koth stared at his command crew heavily, not saying a word. Tension hung in the air.

"Thoughts?" Koth asked.

"We held up our end of the bargain," Crowley said fiercely.

Karg sighed. "If _Voyager _ is there, the Karnaii will seek an alliance with them. If only to hold back the Latarrans. We have to help them."

"Stick with our current plans and close the wormhole," Barkovitch suggested. "That leaves everything in the Delta Quadrant back in the Delta Quadrant."

That sounded like the best option to Kinsey. The problem was uncertainty. Closing the wormhole

He could see it all too well: the Karnaii-Latarran war flaring hot, _Voyager _caught in the middle of it. After a few days or weeks or months of constant, vicious combat, Janeway might well decide the same thing that Koth had: that this journey wasn't worth the effort, and that a quick trip home would be best for all involved.

"That wormhole is a weird one," he interjected. "Kormack?"

The thin science officer smiled nervously. "The wormhole is more like three or four wormholes, all linked in some way," he began. "Their terminal ends tend to overlap. We can collapse the terminal end here, in Klingon space. The others...I don't know."

"Can we be sure the wormhole will be closed for good?" Kinsey prompted.

Kormack's droopy mustache twitched. "It should be," he said. "Wormholes are unstable by nature. This one is odd, though. It's possible but not likely that it could re-establish itself. I don't think we should, to be honest."

Karg's dark eyes flared. "It is not honorable to abandon an ally," he said. "The Latarrans will overcome them. Have we forsaken everything to get home?"

Koth nodded slowly. "How long would it take to create a few warheads?" he asked.

Crowley and Kormack looked at each other. "Full strength, twenty-four hours. We could have them a few warheads in twelve, if we push it and it doesn't need to be strong enough to hit the entire planet," she said.

"Agreed," Kormack said.

"The problem is getting them through the wormhole in one piece," Crowley continued. "_Vor'moch _can take the gravitational forces. The torpedos can't."

"How about a shuttle?" Kinsey asked, knowing the answer already.

Crowley shook her head. "I wouldn't bet on it."

"The Latarrans would be foolish to attack, with Salim Ru still in Karnaii hands," Sayba said thoughtfully. "They would be leaving those colonists to certain destruction."

"They may not be thinking tactically. They have taken two heavy blows. They may decide it is better to throw a punch," Karg answered.

He could tell what Koth was thinking; over the years he had learned how the Klingon captain's mind worked. Closing the wormhole and leaving the whole mess was one thing. Closing the wormhole and leaving theirerstwhile allies to almost certain defeat by the Latarrans was another. Koth still had a sense of honor, even it had become necessarily elastic around the edges in the years in the wilderness. Besides, there was the wild-card of _Voyager _still there, still in the middle of it – and who knew what would happen?

"This is not what we agreed to," Koth said finally. "But we are still honorable people. Our allies need our help." He stopped and eyed each member of his command crew, one by one.

"When the wormhole opens...we'll be going back."


	23. Desperate Hope

_Author's note: Yes, this story isn't dead. Glass Ceiling is still underway, but I found myself in a Vor'moch type mood the other day, so here we are. Three characters hope for the best while things get worse... _

If _Vor'moch's _baryon warhead was not banned, it should have been. This was the second planet that had been struck with one, and the effects were still horrific. Janeway would have been delighted to see this weapon banished to an unmarked grave.

Salim Ru itself had healed from the wounds; the radiation dissipated quickly. Its power grid was up, and vehicles shuttled back and forth in the streets and airways of the colony. It was far from the huge, silent mausoleum that Spanos had been.

Yet this planet was just as bad, in its own way. If the Karnaii were a small, dispersed race, it didn't show here. Rhoden had assembled all his forces into an army of occupation. Heavily armed Karnaii soldiers patrolled the streets and airways in captured Latarran aircraft. They had taken over the best areas of the colony for their own and banished the colonists from much of the colony.

Latarrans on Salim Ru did not fare well. The only ones allowed into the city were chain gangs, quite literally shackled together and watched over by Karnaii guards. They were shuffled into the city that had been theirs a week ago and given the unenviable tasks and grunt labor of cleanup. One group had been clearing away debris from a destroyed building. Another had been filling sandbags to place around a Karnaii security checkpoint.

She'd been allowed to speak with them, and they had all stated that they'd been treated well. But how much could that be worth, knowing there were armed Karnaii guards right behind them? Once she was gone, the guards would still be there. She hadn't crossed half the Delta Quadrant by being stupid. From the look in their eyes, they knew it too.

Most of the Latarrans had been moved to what the Karnaii optimistically called 'relocation facilities'. These were located a good distance away from the population centers of the colony. They were rather squalid, ramshackle prison camps largely built by the prisoners themselves.

She closed her eyes and sighed. The Karnaii apparently meant for the contingent from _Voyager _and the Latarran officers to see everything, all at once. The Latarrans had been stone-faced throughout it all. She could see the fury in their eyes and tensed jaws, but they managed to control themselves.

For a long moment, she wondered if her task was impossible. There was a Latarran fleet massing out there, intending to wipe the Karnaii out entirely. Here, there were Karnaii enslaving the Latarran colonists. Were these Latarran officers going to go back to their High Command and suggest peace? It was hard to believe.

Yet the alternative seemed worse. The Karnaii and the Latarrans did have one thing in common: each could engage in wholesale slaughter of the other side's noncombatants. The worst part was, when you came down to it, there was little she could do to stop them. They both had entire fleets; she had only one ship.

General Tholoch caught her attention quietly. His eyes were cold with restrained anger. She turned to him and smiled humorlessly.

"Yes, General?"

"If you don't mind," Tholoch said coolly, "I believe we've seen enough here. I would like to return to our ship and contact my High Command."

"Of course," she acknowledged, but her stomach dropped down low. What was he going to recommend? His stiff and distant manner didn't give her much cause for comfort. Her eyes raked across his face, trying to figure him out. A moment later, he vanished, transported back to his own vessel.

With the Latarrans now gone, Kreech sidled over to her. The Karnaii were even harder to figure out than the Latarrans. They didn't possess the Latarran emotional reserve – in fact, when you came down to it they were easily excitable and overly dramatic. What they did possess were faces that were nothing like her own. They didn't have facial expressions that were anything like the humanoid norm.

"Ahh," Kreech said. "Now, perhaps, we can talk freely."

Janeway summoned strength from somewhere. "I'm sorry, Captain Kreech?"

"Our bargain," Kreech smiled. "If you simply do not give the Latarrans the sensor technology, we will allow you to use our wormhole just as we allowed _Vor'moch _to use it."

Anger flared at the name of the Klingon ship, but she choked it down. "Captain Kreech, I made you no promises," she said archly. "My intent is to initiate peaceful negotiations. You do realize – the Latarrans cannot take Salim Ru back from you, but they can wreak havoc on your colonies. Most of your military forces are here; I'd imagine the rest of them are guarding your starport. That leaves only _your _noncombatants."

Kreech seemed unaffected. "We have the best guarantee of Latarran good behavior we could want," he said.

"And what would that be?" Janeway asked.

Kreech smiled liplessly, showing her his large, yellowed incisors. "We have the colonists," he explained, as if she was too dull to grasp the point. "We do not intend to execute them wholesale...but we will do what we have to do."

Janeway's mouth twitched. "I'm not going to make deals with a race who threatens to kill innocent people," she flared.

Kreech chuckled. "Then you shouldn't have dealt with the Latarrans!" he rejoined. "Captain, we can offer you a way _home. _All we ask is that you not give them the sensors. Can they offer you that?"

"I haven't made my decision yet," she said. "I _am _interested in seeing these negotiations through."

The Karnaii captain shrugged. "As you wish," he said. "I must report to Governor Rhoden. He'll be waiting to hear from you."

Janeway sighed. "Very well," she said, and tapped her combadge. "Janeway to _Voyager. _Prepare to beam up our landing party."

A moment later, the tingling sensation of transport enveloped her and she stepped forward off the transporter pad. Briskly, she headed for the bridge. Chakotay vacated her chair, nodding once at her as he did so.

"Report," she said.

"Inertial dampers are repaired, warp core is online and stable, main sensor array and phasers are online," he said. "Engineering has been putting in overtime."

She acknowledged it with a nod. "Good," she said archly.

"The Karnaii have been offering to help. Rather insistently," he added.

She shook her head. "I think they've had enough advanced technology for now," she said. "Mr. Tuvok?"

"I wish my report was positive," he said. "The Latarran fleets I have been tracking are clearly moving into attack positions around Karnaii colonies."

"Are they going to attack immediately, or are they going to wait?" she asked.

"It is difficult to tell at this point. Three fleets are holding just outside Karnaii sensor range. Two more are still moving into position," Tuvok explained.

She sighed. All she'd wanted was some small hope for peace. Was that fruitless? It seemed so. What would she do if this became a full-blown war?

Damn the _Vor'moch. _They had no interest in cleaning up the mess they'd created. Millions, perhaps billions, of lives were at risk because of them. Now they were home, with nary a care for the situation they'd left behind.

"General Tholoch is hailing us on an encrypted channel," Harry announced.

Janeway closed her eyes and let out a measured breath. "On screen," she said.

Tholoch's face was grave and calm, with nary a trace of the repressed anger she had seen on Salim Ru. He seemed like a man who knew his course now, and was grateful for that knowledge. He nodded to her in greeting.

"Captain Janeway," he said. "I have transmitted my report to my High Command. They have made their decision. These negotiations have been fruitless, and will remain so. Therefore, I have been ordered to cease them and return to Latarran territory."

Janeway took a slow, measured breath. She had known this was coming, but hearing it out loud was worse.

"I see," she said.

"I have also been instructed to ask you for the sensor technology," Tholoch continued.

"I suppose my condition of maintaining negotiations isn't an option," Janeway answered.

Tholoch shook his head. "With all due respect, Captain, I have my orders. We would appreciate the help – it would give us something to counter the Karnaii cloaking devices. But the High Command intends to proceed with or without it."

Janeway swallowed. "Perhaps I should be speaking to your High Command directly," she said.

Tholoch shook his head again. "They will not speak to you while _Voyager _is docked in a Karnaii spacedock," he said. "Please understand, it's not personal. The High Command expressed great respect for you and your crew. They believe your intentions are pure – but they do not lie in the direction we are going."

"Thank you," Janeway said weakly. "General Tholoch, I'll be blunt. We have observed several Latarran fleets massing around Karnaii colonies."

Tholoch did not seem fazed. "Offensive operations are necessary to win a war," he said.

"That's true," Janeway said. "But the only people on those colonies are noncombatants. Civilians. You can't attack them."

Tholoch shrugged. "The Karnaii have attacked our civilians. They've killed them and imprisoned them," he pointed out. "Perhaps a taste of their own medicine is in order."

Here it was. She could feel all her efforts spinning out into nothingness now.

"If you move against those colonies, the Karnaii will retaliate against the colonists they have control over," Janeway pointed out. "If you have to occupy those planets, I understand that. But there's nothing to be gained in killing noncombatants."

"The Karnaii don't think so," Tholoch countered.

There was only one card she had left to play. At one time, she'd thought it was a trump card. Not anymore, it seemed, not if the Latarrans were going to move whether or not she gave them the sensors.

"I'll give you the sensor technology," she said. "_If – _and _only _if – you occupy those planets humanely. You have the troops and the ships. A massacre may satisfy some people – but in the long run it won't serve your purpose."

Tholoch nodded slowly. "I will pass that along to my High Command," he said. "However, I do not know what they will say. They seemed unwilling to rule out options."

"Killing civilians isn't an option," Janeway persisted. "Surely, you can't--,"

Tholoch sighed and looked at her gravely. "I will pass your offer back to my High Command," he said with a tone of dread finality. "For now, I will be departing the spacedock and returning to our nearest colony. I will hail you as soon as I have an answer."

The screen flickered to the interior of the spacedock. The doors opened and the Latarran ships that had followed _Voyager _here undocked without ado and jetted silently into space. She watched them jump to warp and vanish in points of light. The Karnaii, apparently satisfied, allowed them to leave unmolested.

Janeway sank down in her seat. Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed her. The Latarrans were decent people, but had been extraordinarily provoked. Now they intended to be as savage as the Karnaii. The worst part was, there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it. All she could do was try.

"Hail Spacedock control," she said finally. "Tell them we need to conduct tests and will be leaving spacedock. Assume standard orbit of Salim Ru. Maintain long-range scans of the Latarran fleets. I want to know the moment anything happens. If Tholoch hails us, I want to know _immediately." _

"What if the Karnaii try to capture the ship?" Chakotay asked.

Janeway shook her head. "We've had time to make repairs," she said. "If we have to, we'll fight. If we have to, we'll withdraw."

Withdraw. That option sounded so cowardly and weak. That was what _Vor'moch _had done. Every fiber in her being fought against the thought. Was it so wrong to want to keep civilians out of the line of fire? Was it so wrong to want peace? It seemed hopeless.

"The Karnaii are hailing us," Harry said.

"On screen," Janeway said.

She was expecting her old friend Captain Kreech, but instead the figure of Admiral Rhoden appeared on the screen. Janeway smiled coolly at him.

"Admiral Rhoden," she said.

"Captain Janeway," he said. "The Latarrans have withdrawn. I understand you are undergoing tests. Once again, I will offer you the assistance of our engineers."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Janeway answered. "Our situation is much better now."

"I see. Have you considered our offer? I am prepared to offer you the coordinates of the wormhole."

Janeway smiled coldly. "By now, you have to be aware that there are Latarran fleets moving into position around your colonies," she said. "I will not give the Latarrans the sensor technology they want if they attack those colonies."

Rhoden smoothed his whiskers down in a somewhat obsessive manner. "We would prefer you not give them anything at all."

"I'm sure," Janeway rejoined. "However, I must point out, Admiral. You have Latarran colonists under your control. I've argued for their safety. I'm doing this to spare _your _civilians unnecessary casualties."

Rhoden absorbed that for a few moments. "All Karnaii know that sacrifice may be necessary," he said, and made a fist with his clawed hand.

Janeway swallowed for a moment. Could the Karnaii leader actually be _indifferent _to his own civilians? This was madness. For a moment she was tempted to order an immediate course for the Alpha Quadrant and let these two races destroy each other.

"I'd hope you would have more of a care for your children and elderly," she said archly.

"The Latarrans will not move against them," Rhoden said. "Not when we can retaliate against their colonists." He groomed his snout for a moment, a gesture that Janeway found irritating. She didn't bathe while she was talking to him, did she?

"Wouldn't it be better for both sides if it didn't come to that?" Janeway pressed.

Rhoden shrugged. "Whatever will be, will be," he said. "Good luck with your tests, Captain Janeway. If you wish to speak of this matter further, I will be available."

The screen flicked back to spacedock. The doors opened, and Paris guided the starship out into a standard orbit of Salim Ru. Janeway shifted in her chair as _Voyager _came to relative stop in orbit.

"What do we do now?" Chakotay asked.

Janeway took a deep breath. She was exhausted and angry, facing the futility of her efforts. The only answer she had was not one she wanted to give, but it was the only one she had.

"For now?" she said. "Wait, watch...and hope."

* * *

As one of the highest-ranking engineers in the Karnaii Defense Organization, Srask was part of Rhoden's direct staff. He didn't really like it. His interests had been in engineering, not politics, and occupation was not something he wanted to do. The power grid and machinery on Salim Ru had come back mostly on its own, once the radiation dissipated.

Junior engineers could handle it, and they could use the experience.

If there was one thing he did like about occupation duty, it was the captured spacedock. Not only did ships dock here, but were built and launched here. Here, he could actually build large starships, ships like _Voyager _and _Vor'moch. _

His communicator beeped, and he opened it.

"Rhoden to Srask," squeaked the communicator.

"Srask here," he said.

"Report to my office, please."

"On my way."

As he headed to the military governor's office, he reached for a chew stick from his belt pouch. He remembered how amazed Crowley and her staff had been to see that the Karnaii chewed on wooden sticks. He and his had been equally shocked to discover that the humans and Klingons didn't. Imagine having teeth that didn't grow!

Chew sticks were a great comfort. So much, in fact, that his questing fingers told him that he had almost gone through an entire pack. Already, and it was just before lunchtime! He'd have to cut down. But not before meeting Governor Rhoden. There were times you just needed a good chew stick. These were an applewood blend, very tasty and flavorful. He closed his eyes and simply gnawed for a moment or two.

Some Karnaii simply spit their leavings on the floor. Srask had always loathed that habit. They weren't _animals, _no matter what the Latarrans thought. Neatness and precision were a lot of what had made him a good engineer. He had a small case into which he spit his splinters.

Rhoden's office was magnificent, and the military governor lolled in his chair. He nodded when Srask entered.

"Ah," Rhoden said. "Welcome, Srask. Good to see you."

"Sir," Srask said.

Rhoden pointed at the screen on his wall, which displayed a map of local space. Srask squinted at it. Here was Salim Ru, there was the Karnaii Reservation, there were the Latarran planets.

"Let's get right to the point. There are five Latarran fleets preparing to strike our planets," Rhoden said, and pointed them out on the screen.

"Then we need to move to defend them," Srask said.

Rhoden shook his head. "We can't," he said simply. "We must defend our starport, and we must defend Salim Ru. There isn't enough left over to give the colonies any appreciable cover. It's unfortunate, but there's nothing we can do."

Srask stared at the governor. He had grown up on one of those colony planets. Was Rhoden really proposing to sacrifice them? Everyone of military age was already here or at the starport; there were only children and elderly there.

"You propose to _let _the Latarrans kill them?" he asked.

Rhoden scowled, showing his incisors. "Not _let," _he said. "It's simple numbers. We don't have the troops or the ships to protect them all. Besides, the Latarrans have always been divided. There have been Latarrans who wanted peace. There have been those who wanted us to negotiate, the way Janeway wanted us to negotiate. They will scream at the sight of Karnaii children killed by Latarran weapons."

"That was before we hit them twice and conquered Salim Ru," Srask pointed out. "You're counting on them to pull their punches. That worked then. It may not work now."

"Considering we have their colonists here, I think it will," Rhoden said. "Besides. What we need to do right now is stall. _Vor'moch _will be coming back with a few more warheads for us. _Voyager _has departed Spacedock, but they're still in orbit. We will try to use Janeway to keep the Latarrans from attacking – all we need to stall until _Vor'moch _is here."

"Then what?" Srask asked. "They're just one ship. They've helped immeasurably, but they're just one ship."

Rhoden scowled again. "How long until you can produce warheads of your own?" he asked.

Srask had that answer. It wasn't hard to make the warheads, and one of his underlings was doing a good job of supervising it. "Five days, perhaps seven," he said.

"Excellent," Rhoden said. "Then we will have to see. If Janeway can keep the Latarrans from attacking, all the better. _Vor'moch _will give us baryon warheads. We will take those and send two cloaked ships to Latarra Prime. One baryon warhead won us this planet. Two or more against Latarra Prime? They'll have to withdraw from our colonies; they'll have to head back home. Their High Command will require it."

Srask found himself wondering why it was Rhoden thought that the ships would head immediately home. It would be simple enough for them to pulp their targets and _then _head home. On the other hand, the Latarrans were not there to say hello to the colonies anyway. Maybe their best move was to answer one crushing blow with another.

"I want you to arrange several freighters in orbit," Rhoden said.

"All right," Srask answered. "But you don't need an engineer for that."

"I want you to rig the cargo transporters to beam up inmates from the prison camp," Rhoden said. "Let us not be fooled. The Latarrans are watching. If they know that we can begin beaming prisoners up from the camps and then out into space – or even the outer atmosphere – they will think twice."

The idea made Srask ill. He could see the baryon warhead as a necessary evil that had taken place in the context of a war. And it was true that the Latarrans had a great deal to answer for; their crimes against the Karnaii were many. This, though...this was more troublesome. Rhoden wanted to have the ability to kill large numbers of prisoners in a short amount of time.

"That's murder," Srask squeaked.

"We're at war," Rhoden replied. "I can give you ten cargo freighters. How many prisoners can each ship take at one clip?"

Srask closed his eyes. _This is madness. Madness. _Cargo transporters were not supposed to be used for living beings, but it hardly mattered if you intended to kill them. He tried to figure out how much the average Latarran might weigh, the capacity of the freighters they had., and did some quick figures in his head.

"On average, two hundred people per ship per beamup," Srask said.

"So, two thousand for ten ships?" Rhoden prompted.

"Yes," Srask said weakly. "You'd have to allow the transporters time to cool. You can't just beam things constantly."

"Even so," Rhoden said. Srask suspected that he was thinking about the same things. Ten minutes to let the transporter coils cool. Ten or twelve thousand in an hour. The idea made Srask sick. Apparently, Rhoden liked the idea.

"Make it happen," Rhoden commanded. "That's an order."

"What about _Voyager?" _Srask asked.

"They can't stay in orbit of Salim Ru if we don't want them here," Rhoden said craftily. "I was hoping the Latarrans would pull out, and we would be able to attack them when their allies were not here. Either that, or just send them through the wormhole without giving the Latarrans anything at all. Unfortunately, Janeway held out much longer than any reasonable person would."

Srask knew that _Voyager _was still in orbit, and there was still part of him that itched to see the innards of that ship. But they had accomplished a lot of repairs. If Rhoden had wanted to take the ship, he had missed a golden opportunity – a pretty basic error, when you came down to it. Was his lust for vengeance against the Latarrans blinding him? Perhaps. And that lust was also urging him to commit acts that might cost more than they gained.

"Janeway will intercede to protect the Latarran colonists," Srask pointed out.

"Not if every ship and planetary defense opens up on her at once," Rhoden said promptly.

"Genocide doesn't serve our purpose," Srask tried another tack. "It might make them fight harder. If they think they have nothing to lose...," he trailed off, hoping Rhoden would pick up on the rest.

"It may be our only defense against Latarran genocide," Rhoden answered. "Do it, or I'll get someone else to do it. Dismissed."

Srask sighed heavily. "Yes, sir," he said.

It was only when he was safely out of the office that he fumbled for another chew stick. Then another after that. He'd have to pick up a new pack. He was going to need it.

The worst part was that they were already in this up to their neck. What else could they do but see it through? As far as Srask was concerned, the Latarrans had a comeuppance coming to them. But the mass murder of prisoners? With transporters? The idea was revolting.

Perhaps it wouldn't come to that. Perhaps the Latarrans would hold back. Perhaps the knowledge that the Karnaii _could _retaliate in kind would mean that they wouldn't have to. Perhaps then, the Karnaii could focus on something else, like using that spacedock to build their own starships. That was a goal he greatly preferred.

He rather hoped it would end up that way.

* * *

The wormhole spiraled open, and the _IKS Vor'moch _moved smoothly out of its center. Sensors crackled and struggled to make sense of their surroundings. The atmosphere on the bridge was tense; none of the bridge officers wanted to be where they were. The sensors told the story: _Vor'moch _was back in Karnaii space, thousands of light-years from home.

"We have arrived," Karg grunted. A few screens flashed alerts.

"Bridge to Engineering," Koth growled, rubbing his head. "Damage report?"

"Some damage to the collectors. Weapons and shields are fine, warp core is fine. Cloaking device is offline."

"How long?" Koth asked.

"Nine hours. Maybe twelve." the Australian replied. "It looks like the ion manifold overloaded in the wormhole."

"Proceed," Koth said.

The atmosphere on the bridge was tense. The crew was still grappling with their cool reception on _Dy'mhen_, and their subsequent return to the Delta Quadrant. None of them wanted to be here, and none of them wanted to think about what would happen.

"Remember," Kinsey said, "we're here for the short term. Just long enough to charge the warheads and give them to the Karnaii. Two days. Three, tops."

No one seemed particularly convinced. Kinsey saw a lot of sour, stressed expressions. No one talked back, either. They were too well trained for that. They did their jobs, but they wouldn't be in top form.

Kinsey had wondered what would happen to _Voyager. _ Now he might get the chance to find out. It bothered him, even though there wasn't a lot he could do about it. He'd had his orders and done his duty. Now they just had this one more duty to do, and then all this would be over once and for all.

Kormack had set up his equipment down in the cargo bay, and baryon warheads were busy charging down there. It was scary how effective he was with that weapon. The first one had taken a few days to charge all by itself. Efficiency was growing by leaps and bounds. Every time they'd made one, they learned something more about the process.

He pushed it aside. This was the last time. Never again would this weapon be used. They wouldn't carry out the attack itself. They would make it, give it to the Karnaii, turn around, and get back home for good. Then they would collapse the wormhole, head straight for Qo'nos, and then Earth.

After that, Kinsey decided, he was going to retire from Starfleet. If Starfleet brass asked him about _Voyager, _he'd shrug his shoulders and say he'd never heard of them. He would find himself a colony planet near the border with the Klingon Empire and build a home there. He'd grow food, do some trading, maybe raise animals, and try to forget that the events of the past two weeks had ever happened.

Hard, unpleasant silence ruled the bridge. Kinsey leaned over to Koth and muttered that he wanted to check on the weapons. Koth nodded his approval, and he was on his way. The turbolift was a welcome escape from the palpable frustration on the bridge. Besides, Kinsey thought, he ought to see to the rest of the crew. A lot of his job was keeping tabs on crew morale, and it was pretty bad right now.

The few stops he made along the way supported that assessment. They'd achieved their goal, and gotten home. Then home hadn't seemed to be everything it had been cracked up to be. Then they'd had to come _back. _He didn't see anything that suggested that mutiny was at hand. Everyone was still doing their jobs. But this crew needed relief badly.

_Just a little bit more, _he thought. _A little bit more and we'll be home. And this time, by God, once we get through the wormhole we're going to turn right around, on the spot, and close it. No waiting. No loose ends. No more Karnaii, or Latarrans, or Delta Quadrant. _

_Just a little bit more. _

Two burly Klingons guarded the door to the cargo bay that had become Kormack's weapons lab. They stepped aside as he approached, and the door opened. Four baryon warheads were set up on boxes, with the same cables running into them. Kinsey blinked at the sight. Four? Between the strikes on Spanos and Salim Ru, that was half of the Latarran colonies right there. He knew all too well what the results of these four weapons would be: a mountain of corpses and devastated planets. Kormack was moving from one to the other, checking things, humming under his breath. Kinsey observed his science officer calmly.

"Status?" he prompted.

"Oh, yes, sir," Kormack said, and squinted at him. "I'd estimate twelve hours until these are ready."

"Why are you building four?" Kinsey asked.

Kormack didn't seem to have expected the question. "Why four? Um...well, commander, I was thinking that if we gave them four, they would be happy and wouldn't want us to come back again."

Kinsey nodded. The Karnaii would never be happy. They'd gotten their damn colony back, and they still weren't happy. He didn't think they would be happy until every last Latarran was dead. _Vor'moch _would not be coming back, though. He would see to that. Never again.

It wasn't lost on him that he'd thought the same thing last time.

"Twelve hours," Kinsey said. "All right. Good. Keep us posted."

"Of course, sir," Kormack said. "I'm hoping we return home soon. There's a science conference on Vulcan every year. I was hoping to make this year's."

_Funny you want that, with the blood on your hands. The blood on all our hands, _Kinsey thought.

Twelve hours would mean the weapon would be more or less ready by the time they reached Salim Ru. That was for the best. The Karnaii could take the damn things and they could get out of here once and for all. This time was for keeps.

At least, he hoped so.


	24. All They Could Do

_Author's note: It's been a while, but I'm not dead. Really! I don't want to go on the cart! Anyway, I finally did manage to see to this chapter and return to the story of the Latarrans, the Karnaii, the IKS Vor'moch, and the USS Voyager..._

Sparks flew from the damaged cloaking device. Megan Crowley pulled back, scowling at the recalcitrant ion manifold. The trip through the wormhole had damaged it in some way that she hadn't been able to figure out. She'd told Koth it would be eight or nine hours, but no matter what she did, the manifold wouldn't realign the way she wanted it to.

"Bloody hell," she said acidly, the only thing that came to mind.

"Maybe it's the prismatics," someone behind her said.

"We don't have time to replicate a new one," she said. "Well, we ought to replace it anyway. Korvath, Henson, go start replicating parts. As for this...," she leaned over it warily with a tool. Carefully, Crowley took the cloaking device offline and reached gingerly inside to pull out the defiant manifold.

What was wrong with the bloody thing? It would work, then cut out, then work again. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. In the Alpha Quadrant, Klingon ships carried a few extra ion manifolds and picked up more when they resupplied. That hadn't been an option out here. They were complicated to replicate, so they hadn't done it very often. Their last one had been replaced when they'd first met _Voyager. _In between now and then, she hadn't replicated a replacement.

If she could figure it out, then this would be a milk run. _Vor'moch _could give the Karnaii their warheads, go back, and have this over with once and for all. Without the cloaking device, it was going to be a lot harder.

She bent over the device and carefully adjusted the prismatic regulator. That did the trick, at least for the time being. She didn't trust it, though. The only way to keep it adjusted would be to have someone keep their hand in the bloody thing, and the radiation would burn their hand off eventually. Not a good option.

Was there a trick she hadn't thought of? Nothing came to mind. She'd always been able to come up with an idea to keep things running. Not now, though. There was only one thing to do, and that was replace it. But that meant that for the next three days, the cloak wouldn't be trustworthy. All because of one bloody stupid ion manifold.

All the same, shields and weapons were fine, the warp core was perking along fine, and and there wasn't a Latarran ship in the fleet that could beat _Vor'moch. _She wondered for a moment what _Voyager _was doing. Were they repaired? It was possible, with the time that had passed. That could be more troublesome; the _Intrepid-_class starship could well be a match for _Vor'moch. _But that was really Koth and Kinsey's worry.

Displeased and tense, Megan Crowley ordered her staff to check the cloaking device every five minutes and adjust it if it needed it, and to go up to sickbay and get checked out for radiation absorption afterwards. She would need to brief the rest of the senior crew on the situation, and she wasn't looking forward to that.

The ride up the turbolift was too short for her liking. She gathered her courage, pulled her hair back, and strode onto the bridge. It seemed less tense than she might have thought; the bridge crew was focusing on their work. Koth, Kinsey, Karg, and Barkovitch glanced over at her curiously.

"_nuqneH?_" Koth asked.

Crowley drew herself to attention.

"One of the ion manifolds on the cloaking device has carked it, _devwI," _she said.

Kinsey raised an eyebrow from where he sat on Koth's other side. "Is that a technical term?"

Crowley shook her head. "It works, then it stops, then it works again. We used the last spare when we fought the Latarrans at Spanos. What with all the fun we had, we didn't get around to replicating another one. We can, but not immediately."

"How long?" rumbled Koth.

"Seventy-two hours is the usual," Crowley said. "I could cut it to forty-eight if we bypass a few tests. If we can adjust our course, maybe we could make the time."

Koth shook his head. "We don't have that kind of time," he said. "Get by with this one in the meantime."

Crowley trembled. "Sir, when the manifold stops working, so does the cloak. We'll be visible. Vulnerable."

Koth glanced over at Barkovitch. "Shields and weapons status?"

Crowley knew those perfectly well herself, but didn't argue. Barkovitch smiled coolly. "Shields at one hundred percent. Disruptors charged and ready. Phaser also charged and ready."

Koth shrugged. "If we must fight without the cloak, we will. Sayba and Karg are already keeping us out of range of the Latarran fleets. They seem to have other plans, anyway."

"I could try and cheat a little, replicate something which would just hold for now, maybe," she offered.

Koth shook his head. "No."

In her years of service on _Vor'moch, _she had learned to read her captain. Koth was a reserved, thoughtful leader. She could tell from his tone of voice when she might be able to convince him to her point of view and when he had made his decision, and now seemed one of those times. She wasn't particularly wild about the idea of tearing across the local terrain without the cloaking device, but she didn't think he was going to budge. So she held her tongue and tried instead to rack her brain for shortcuts she could take to get the ion manifold online.

And perhaps he could read her too, because he glanced down and punched something on his console with thick fingers. The viewscreen jumped from a view of space in front of them to a Karnaii colony planet. A large fleet orbited around it, like metal fingers preparing to crush it. They were Latarran ships, not Karnaii, and from their orbit pattern and from the powered-up weapons arrays that were already aiming planetside, they were there to do something nasty.

"See what you can do," Koth rumbled. "If the cloak is not reliable, we won't use it unless we have to. One way or another, we will get through."

"Incoming message from the Karnaii," Barkovitch said suddenly. "From Salim Ru."

"On screen," grunted Koth. The screen dissolved and reformed into the face of Admiral Rhoden. The military governor seemed unreasonably pleased to see them.

"Ah. Welcome back, friends. I am delighted to see you again," the admiral said.

"Greetings," Koth said bluntly. "We have your baryon warheads. Send a ship and come get them."

Rhoden stiffened. "Unfortunately, I...cannot. Our fleet is otherwise occupied. Can you...possibly...deliver them to Salim Ru?"

Koth paused and lowered his head for a moment. Then he raised his head and eyed the Karnaii ruler coolly.

"All the way to Salim Ru," he mused. "Why there?"

"Our fleet is clustered around Salim Ru and our starport," said Rhoden. "Salim Ru is closer to you."

Koth and Kinsey shared a look. "Very well," Koth said heavily. "However, I expect that there will be a fleet at the wormhole to help us stabilize it, as before."

The Karnaii admiral scratched his chin nervously. "Our fleet is...overtaxed," he said. "And your ship is much faster than ours. I do not know if I can have ships there in time."

Koth leaned forward. "We came _back _for you. Either you dispatch those ships now, so they will be there when we arrive, or I will turn over the warheads to the Latarrans."

If Crowley could read the body language of the Karnaii correctly, that got to the furry little bloke. "You dare not!" he squeaked.

"Try me," Koth growled, leaning forward in his chair.

The admiral tapped away at the computer on his desk. "I am dispatching the ships as we speak. I will also send Srask to assist. He should be finishing up an assignment shortly."

"Very well," Koth said, and leaned back in his chair. He seemed tired and tense. "We shall rendezvous with you at Salim Ru. But this is it, Rhoden. We have fulfilled our bargain."

Rhoden made a clawed fist. "Agreed, Captain Koth, and know you always have a friend in the Karnaii."

The connection dropped, and Koth cleared his throat. "Sayba, lay in a course for Salim Ru that keeps us away from the Latarran fleets."

A few moments later, the computer beeped. "Laid in, _devwI." _

"Full ahead, warp eight." Koth turned to Crowley again. "Do what you can with the cloaking device," he said. "That is all we can do."

* * *

Srask scowled at his console and groomed himself again, running his clawed hands through his whiskers. The program worked well enough. He'd done what they'd asked of him. It hadn't taken very long to route the transporter controls of all ten cargo freighters to the computer in his office. Then it was a matter of running the program he had designed. First it scanned the area of the camps for life forms, then cross-referenced with the Karnaii communications network. If it found a communicator in the same area, it assumed the life form was Karnaii and discarded it. If it didn't, it would obtain a transporter lock. Once it had two hundred, it would beam them up into the outer atmosphere of Salim Ru in an area over the ocean, far away from land. It would be the equivalent of tossing the prisoners out of a shuttle, except there was no shuttle. The bodies would be unrecoverable; eaten by fish, he supposed. Then it went to sleep for ten minutes to let the coils cool. Then it would restart the process again. Each ship would work independently. No one had to do anything. All he had to do was push one button to start the process, and when it was done, he could push another button and erase all the logs. No one would ever know.

But _he _would.

He caught himself raising his hands to his snout again and forced himself to stop. Instead, he reached for a chew stick and nibbled at it nervously. He did not like this plan one bit, but he had done what he'd been asked to do. The chew stick surrendered to his teeth in record time when his communicator beeped.

"Rhoden to Srask."

"Go ahead," Srask said, swallowing hard. What would the admiral want now? To figure out a way to set the prisoners on fire?

"Report to my office," Rhoden said.

It didn't take long for Srask to get there. Being an engineer had its benefits, and being a high-ranking engineer had even more benefits. He'd gotten a few broken transporters, disassembled them, and made one working transporter from the parts. Having his own transporter was practically a necessity with his responsibilities, and it was awfully convenient.

He couldn't materialize inside Rhoden's office; he'd built the transporter shield himself. Rhoden would be first on the list of Latarran assassins. But he could and did beam into the outer office, where the guards let him pass and the aide immediately sent him to the military governor's inner sanctum.

Rhoden seemed pleased and preoccupied at the same time. He cleared his throat and rose when Srask came in, gesturing the engineer to a chair. Srask noticed that the wall screen had a schematic of Salim Ru's spacedock on it.

"Ah, Srask. Welcome," said Rhoden. "Did you finish it?"

Srask's whiskers twitched at the reminder. "Yes," he said shortly. "It's up, it's automated, and one button is all it takes."

"Excellent. Key it to my access code."

Personally, that was the last thing Srask would have wanted to do. If it had been in his hands, he would have used it as a threat against the Latarrans to keep them in line. He had no love for them, but they would understand the idea that if they killed Karnaii civilians their own were forfeit, too. He could see himself pushing the button in reprisal, but not first. The Karnaii were an emotional people, and although Rhoden was a crafty and capable leader, he was quite capable of pushing the button first if he thought it necessary.

"I also have a problem for you to solve that you will like," Rhoden said.

"Oh?" Srask replied.

"_Vor'moch _is returning," Rhoden said simply.

Srask blinked his oilspot eyes at the governor in shock. _Back? _The whole idea had been a trade for the use of the Karnaii wormhole! Why had they come back? None of it made sense.

"They are?" he said simply.

"Yes," Rhoden said. "I hailed them through the wormhole. They are delivering more baryon warheads. They are our allies, and I must help them, too. They will be at Salim Ru in eight hours."

Srask was thunderstruck. "_Here? _While _Voyager _is here?"

"I know," Rhoden said, in a stressed, irritable voice. He rubbed at one eye like a tired child. "I want them to give us the warheads, but I cannot ask them to risk any more than necessary. I want you to do two things."

"What?" Srask asked instantly.

"First, I want you to lock the Spacedock doors. I need them _sealed _shut. I don't care what you do; _Voyager _can't do anything if they can't leave the Spacedock. Do whatever you can to block their sensors. _Vor'moch _has their cloaking device; they should be all right. We'll deliver the warheads to a ship in orbit, rather than the spacedock. I want you to do that _now. _Right now. As soon as you are done, take the same fleet of five ships you had before and head for the wormhole. Don't tell _anyone. _Stay cloaked until you get there. I want you there as soon as possible, to get them through."

Srask nodded, pleased at the idea of seeing his friends on the _Vor'moch _again. He would also lock the docking clamps holding _Voyager _in the Spacedock. Blocking their sensors was harder; both _Voyager _and _Vor'moch _had advanced technologies he did not entirely understand. But if the docking clamps were kept on and the doors shut, _Voyager _could sense whatever it wanted if it couldn't go anywhere.

Could _Voyager _fight its way out of the spacedock? It was possible, he allowed, but unlikely, what with their insistence on negotiations. And of course, if they tried, then Rhoden would threaten to kill the colonists. That ought to be enough to keep them sitting still long enough for _Vor'moch _to get safely home. Assuming that Rhoden simply threatened instead of just doing it.

"I'll get it done," Srask said instantly.

"Good. I'm sending orders to your ships to prepare for your departure. Key the cargo transporters to my command, lock the spacedock doors, block _Voyager's _sensors, and get going."

"Yes, sir," Srask said, and stood. A moment later, he was back in his office in the spaceport.

Transferring control of the cargo transporters relieved him more than he thought it would. It was out of his hands. Then he changed the code for the spacedock doors, ensuring that only he and the docking officers had the proper codes. He also adjusted the doors so that they would open enough to emit smaller Karnaii spacecraft, but not a monster the size of _Voyager. _The docking clamps currently holding _Voyager _to the spacedock got the same treatment. He wasn't sure how to block the sensors of a ship so far advance, so he did the best he could. Hours after he left, a thoron particle leak would start in a secondary reactor. Then two of the smaller Karnaii ships docked close to the mighty starship would begin emitting subspace interference. It would play merry hell with the Karnaii's own sensors, but it couldn't be avoided. It ought to do.

Before he knew it, he was on his own ship and departing for the wormhole. He'd never thought of the command chair as a restful place, but it was by comparison. The cloak was fine, no one could see them, and he had time to review the first time they'd stabilized the wormhole for their friends. Monitoring Latarran frequencies told him that the Latarrans had surrounded several Karnaii planets, but so far all they were doing was orbiting them. Nothing as of yet. He figured it would stay that way, especially if they knew that their own citizens would die very quickly in retaliation.

Retaliation. That was the key. Or at the least, the Karnaii had to play for time, until the warheads were in their hands. Preferably on a cloaked ship bound for Latarra Prime. Moving first would light the fuse, before they were ready. He wanted no part of that, and part of him would always regret having set up the system for Rhoden. But he'd had orders, and he'd obeyed them. Now his job was to help his friends. That, Srask thought, was all he could do.

* * *

At last, they would be striking back.

General Trame had commanded the Latarran military forces on Spanos for the past few years. It had been a pleasant, easy position, if a bit of a backwater. On Salim Ru, the Karnaii had been a constant menace. They had rarely bothered with Spanos, other than occasionally harassing shipping.

Things had changed.

Spanos would be years in recovering from the wound that _Vor'moch _and their Karnaii allies had inflicted. He could never forgive or forget the crime they had committed. He did not have the power to punish the Klingon ship, but he could punish the Karnaii.

He commanded a fleet now. His fleet's orders were to orbit a Karnaii colony planet and await authorization. Once he received authorization from the Latarran High Command, he would give the order and his fleet would incinerate this planet.

He knew that only Karnaii elderly and children lived on this planet. Janeway's condition to spare them had already made its way throughout the Latarran fleet. Didn't she understand? The elderly on this planet had likely been terrorists in years past, and the children would grow up to commit the same crimes as their parents if they had the chance.

This was his duty. That was all there was to it. They were at war, and war was not pretty. There was always the possibility that his orders would change and order the occupation of the planet, instead of its destruction. He was willing to do either one. It was necessary.

The planet below didn't have much in the way of sensors, and utterly no defense. All of the Karnaii's fleet was occupying Salim Ru. The Latarran fleet fanned out into the proper attack formation. There would be no attack on the main cities of this planet. Instead, they would launch antimatter bombs which would detonate in the atmosphere. They were far cruder than the weapon that the Karnaii had used against them, but they were quite effective. Spanos and Salim Ru had survived their radiation blast after a few days. The antimatter bombs would render this planet a barren rock. Nothing alive on it would be able to escape, and nothing new would live on it for the next ten thousand years.

His adjutant strode up to him and cleared his throat. Trame turned to look at him.

"Status?" he asked.

"Sir, all ships are in position and everything is in place. The antimatter bombs are armed and loaded. All ships have routed fire control to our weapons console. All you need to do is say, 'Fire'."

"Good," Trame said. Then he turned to the comm officer sitting at her large console. "Has there been any word from the High Command?"

"Nothing, sir," the young woman said solemnly.

"All right," Trame said. "Then we wait."

The mood on the bridge turned sullen. He knew why. They'd been orbiting this planet for a few hours, and the urge for revenge burned strong. His people did not want to wait. They were military, and they wanted to fight. They wanted to strike the Karnaii as the Karnaii had struck them. Perhaps when the Karnaii had felt the same losses they had inflicted on his people, they would think twice

He knew this emotions well because he shared them. The Karnaii could not be trusted or even lived with. They had no interest in peace, only victory. They wanted to utterly eradicate the Latarran people, and as such, the Latarran people had no choice but to utterly eradicate them. It was that simple.

But still, he was not of their type. He had the power to destroy every living thing on this planet at a single word, but he would not do so yet. He had carried out his orders; now they would wait until they had new ones. Then, and only then, would the Karnaii pay the price for their crimes. That was all he could do.

* * *

Janeway was tense.

She could feel everything around her spinning out of control. Things were getting ugly. She had seen the Latarran fleets surrounding the planets of the Karnaii. Stopping the Latarran ships from occupying those planets seemed impossible; humane occupation seemed like the only alternative.

The Karnaii were not being terribly friendly – in fact, they'd stopped speaking to _Voyager _altogether. A few hours ago, five Karnaii ships had suddenly departed the spacedock, jumped to warp, and cloaked. They had not made any kind of announcement as to why, and it made her nervous.

The Latarrans had sent a few encrypted messages to her, all asking about whether or not she was going to give them the sensor technology they had asked for. She in turn had asked what their plans were for the Karnaii planets they were currently orbiting. As of yet, they hadn't given her a definitive answer. She had the feeling they were waiting until their fleets were in position.

But if the war wasn't hot yet, it could be soon – within a few days, or maybe hours. There seemed to be so little she could do other than oversee the final repairs on her ship and hope that the Karnaii and the Latarrans were willing to discuss the matter of the colonists on Salim Ru.

At the ops console, Harry Kim suddenly frowned and tapped a quick command. Janeway turned to him.

"Mr. Kim. Report."

He scowled at the console. "Something's blocking our sensors," he said.

Janeway felt a wire of tension wrap and double-wrap around her middle. "What is it?" she rasped, trying not to snap at him. "Is it deliberate?"

He took a few moments before answering. "It doesn't look that way," he said finally. "One of the secondary reactors is emitting thoron particles...and some of the ships near us seem to be emitting subspace interference."

"Subspace interference? In _Spacedock?" _

Tuvok was also scanning it. "It appears they are running engine diagnostics."

"In Spacedock?" Janeway repeated. "That doesn't make any sense. They'll get harmonic disturbances from the other ships."

"True," Tuvok acknowledged, "but the Karnaii do not behave logically."

Tuvok did have a point, but she still wasn't fond of it. This just didn't _feel _right, although she didn't want to point that out to the Vulcan. "Open a channel to the dockmaster," she said.

A moment later, a gray and white Karnaii was looking at her from the screen. A low-ranking officer, like an ensign, if she read the rank on his uniform correctly.

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager," _she said. "You have a leak in one of your reactors. Also two of your ships are running engine diagnostics, and it's interfering with our sensors." She choked back for a moment and forced herself to smile and speak politely. "Could you _please _get those taken care of? We're trying to align our own sensor grid and it's giving us trouble." The sensor grid had been realigned last night, but the Karnaii didn't need to know that.

"I will speak with my commanding officer," the Karnaii replied.

"Can't you do it?"

The Karnaii sighed. "I cannot," it said mournfully. "I do not have that authority; I must speak with the engineering staff. I will ask the two ships to shut down their diagnostics for you. We Karnaii wish only to to be good hosts."

"Could you open the spacedock doors to help vent the particle leak?" Janeway asked.

The creature's whiskers twitched. "Alas, I do not have that authority either. But I will pass your request to my commanding officer."

Janeway exhaled sharply. "Could I speak with your commanding officer, perhaps?" she prodded.

"I am sorry," the Karnaii said, "he is unavailable. I can ask him to contact you as soon as he is free."

Janeway sighed and nodded. It seemed that the Karnaii seemed to have bureaucracy down pat. Or, she thought darkly, they were trying to stall her.

"Thank you," she said briskly, and cut the connection.

Once the dockmaster was off the screen, she tried hailing one of the ships directly. She didn't have a lot of faith in the dock officers. Another black-furred Karnaii stared at her, this one wearing captain's rank.

"Yes, Captain Janeway?" the creature demanded.

"Hello. Yes, captain," Janeway said, with a smile so tight and frozen she thought her face might break. "We were wondering if you could please shut down the engine diagnostics you seem to be running. You're interfering with our sensor grid."

She was treated to the odd sight of the other captain actually fluffing up its fur so that it stood on end, making the Karnaii look rather like a giant puffball. Up until now, she hadn't known they could do that.

"The diagnostic is under way. I cannot order my engineers to shut it down now. Our ship took grave damage..._heavy _damage in the brave and noble battle to liberate our beloved world. It must be repaired."

Janeway nodded and thought the Karnaii must have a dramatic requirement for their command school.

"I'd be happy to lend you some of my engineers, so that things go quicker."

The Karnaii captain's whiskers wiggled. "Thank you, but no. My ship must remain secure. I am sure you, as a captain and leader, understand that. In order to show good faith, I will instruct my engineers to cut the diagnostic as soon as they possibly can. I can also lend you some of mine, to repair your sensor grid."

Janeway smiled craftily. "Thank you, but _my _ship must also remain secure. I'm sure you understand."

If she read Karnaii body language right, that had irked the captain. "We will do what we can, captain."

The connection flicked off, back to a view of the interior of the spacedock. Janeway sighed.

"I don't like this," she said. "Something isn't right."

"Of course not," Tuvok said from the security station. "The Latarran fleets are in orbit of several Karnaii planets. The Karnaii are in control of Salim Ru, and hold several million Latarran colonists as prisoners. If either side makes a threatening move, the situation will swiftly deteriorate into all-out war."

_That doesn't make me feel much better, Tuvok. _"Do you think the Karnaii are trying to pull something, Mr. Tuvok?"

"Quite possibly. The Karnaii have stopped transmitting to us, but that is not surprising; they see us as an ally of the Latarrans. But I have also been monitoring Karnaii transmissions, and they, too, have dropped to a minimum. Also, ince those five ships left four hours ago, no other ships have entered or left the spacedock. The most strategic move would be to move all available vessels outside of the spacedock, so that they would be available for tactical command."

"Maybe they're planning to fight us," B'Elanna said dubiously.

"Possible, Lieutenant, but unlikely. Attempting to fight _Voyager _inside the spacedock would most likely result in the destruction of the entire facility. With our shields, we would be able to survive that. The Karnaii fleet would not. While they are an extremely emotional species, I believe they would know that fact."

"If I were you, I would tread very carefully, captain," Chakotay said. "There are hotheads on both sides. If they see anything they don't like they'll jump on it, and then the balloon goes up. We may not be able to stop them from fighting their war, but let's not give them a reason to start. I'd sit tight for a bit. It seems like the only thing we can do."

Janeway sat down in her chair for a moment to think. Chakotay's advice was sound, as was Tuvok's analysis. It seemed like the only question she could answer was whether or not she gave the Latarrans the sensor technology they wanted, and they seemed to be moving towards fighting with it or without it. Not for the first time, she closed her eyes and cursed the crew of the _Vor'moch _for being so cavalier with trading advanced technology for a quick way home.

Technology...

A memory of _Voyager's _first year in the Delta Quadrant occurred to her then. Not enough to stop the war, but at least something she could use to have a look at whatever the Karnaii didn't want her to see. And it might not be an ace, but any hole card was better than none.

"Tread carefully? Yes," Janeway said. "Sit tight? No. That's not all we can do."


End file.
